


All That's Left is Anger

by SmoggyFogbottom



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Citadel, Commander Charlie Shepard, Destroy Ending, Earth, F/M, Found Family, Human, Injury Recovery, Mass Effect 3, Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Murder Mystery, Near Death Experiences, Paragade (Mass Effect), Post-Mass Effect 3, Romance, Ruthless (Mass Effect), Spacer (Mass Effect), Turians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-08-04 20:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoggyFogbottom/pseuds/SmoggyFogbottom
Summary: Commander Shepard is faced with an impossible task, as per fucking usual. She is a soldier - a good one, maybe the best - but does that qualify her to determine the fate of a galaxy? Will the galaxy agree with her decision?





	1. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard's story doesn't end over Earth.  
> Here's my attempt to write out my head cannon of what Shep might have gone through after the end of the Reaper Invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Mass Effect fan here! The ending of ME3 bummed me out, although because I got into the games much later I don't think I was an angry as some fans were about it, but I'm a very emotional person and it did make me cry. I still would have liked if all the choices you made in the games mattered, so this fic is in line with that. My Shep was a Paragade, leaning towards Renegade, so I feel like realistically she wouldn't get to choose, the Destroy ending would be the only option. This is my first ever fan-fic and I included a shout out to Infinity War, because I'm shameless.

It wasn’t fair. The thought was petulant, but it was her truth.  

As a soldier, the concept of duty and obligation had been ingrained in Shepard’s mind. The calling that pushed her beyond what regular citizens were compelled to achieve? It still existed, but in this quiet moment while war waged all around – she felt it weaken. No longer a burning fire, the passion that drove her body and mind – it had extinguished to a single flame.

She had been presented with a choice. Her singular focus, her dumb-ass luck had sent her to stand before an ancient creation, a Thing that kept saying it was beyond her comprehension, and it must have been, because she did not understand the dilemma. With the power it could manifest, why could it not solve a problem that it helped make?

This creation was waiting for her response, her decision. A simulacrum of the child that had haunted her dreams, the one that this Intelligence had so cruelly misappropriated for its own manipulations, watched her impassively. Watching everything but reacting to nothing.

This wasn’t fair. The words screamed through her mind this time, but even now in this moment she kept the thought unspoken. Even now at the end, she couldn’t let weakness be seen; a futile effort when the Intelligence did not seem hindered by the normal shackles of the mind. Her own fate was never a sure thing, her survival teetering on the very edge from the moment she stepped on the Normandy all those years ago. Her assuredness that her stubborn will and dogged determination would drag another victory out of this chaos had stopped as soon as she stepped off the Normandy and onto Earth.

Garrus had been side stepping the actual words for a couple weeks, but they knew this was not a survivable conflict. She knew it, she knew he was thinking the same thing, but they avoided the words, instead sharing knowing looks, silent companionship and nonsense plans for the future.

Tears pricked at her eyes and her throat constricted as her mind settled on their last conversation. Attempts to jovially speak of death and meeting in the afterlife were the first vocal admissions the two of them had about not surviving, everything before had been touched with the idea that they had survived some crazy shit, why not again? Shepard and Vakarian. Theirs was a partnership that seemed too big to fail, the universe couldn’t possibly separate them. Yet here she was, facing her mortality; angry with the injustice of not being able to see this better world that she was dragging up out of the Prothean’s failures. Angry that she was cheated out of a life with Garrus and the rest of her found family.

 _Destroy._ Said a small voice in her mind. A fiery anger had fueled many decisions in her life. When her instincts told her something or _someone_ needed to be put down, they were rarely wrong. As a soldier who lived by a martial code, certain circumstances were black and white. Certain circumstances didn’t require diplomacy, they required a well-placed shot. Staring at the image of the young boy her mind was finally made, she knew what she had to do. Her moment of despair over, she allowed the familiar rage to begin consuming her mind and spirit.

There was no physical change, but from the Intelligence she felt a degree of frustration – anger, perhaps?

      “Your efforts have been substantial, we believed you to have ascended to the next stage of evolution.” Regardless of the brief emotions she felt from it, the artificial intelligence’s expression remained implacable. “But like so many before you, you choose destruction. A primitive response.”

Angry tears welled up in her eyes and her hands itched for a weapon. “Well, I fucking did what you couldn’t, I unified the geth and the quarian. If that’s not proof enough that AI and biological organisms can coexist, I don’t know what the hell else I can do.” She grimaced as a spike of pain shot up her leg. She was too tired and in pain to have patience with its existential ponderings.  “You’re not some incomprehensible intelligence, not to me. All you are is bad programming that infected a galaxy and I’m going to fucking burn you and your Reapers to the ground.”

      “This choice will impact your galaxy forever. You are at a crossroads, do you believe that everyone will be pleased with your decision? That your guiding hand will be enough?” The Catalyst turned so its chosen form was watching the battle outside. “The hardest choices require the strongest wills.”

All around her she felt a presence pushing against her body. She could sense disappointment, it was palpable. If another opportunity was available for activating the catalyst, Shepard couldn’t fathom it. This intelligence had killed trillions over and over again in an attempt to stave off complete chaos. It couldn’t be trusted to exist any longer. Life should be given the chance to evolve on its own, failures and all. And if this shifty little gremlin was looking into her mind, it would know that public opinion had no bearing on her actions. After all the shit she had been through, she wouldn’t be in this position if that had ever been even the briefest of concerns.

      “Didn’t you say I’m the first sentient organism to reach you in the millions of years you’ve been at this? I think you’ll find my will equal to yours.”

Shepard pushed back against the presence and the area was immediately awash in a deep crimson. _You don’t control the stars any more._ Whatever resolve she still possessed, every bit of it hurdled this sentiment towards the ancient being that clawed at her mind. Screaming incoherently, her vision was taken while her body suffered an experience akin to being forced through layers of molten metal. Everything burning, her mind was on fire. Fueled by the vestiges of her rage, she willed her mind away from the control of the Intelligence. She hadn’t succumbed to indoctrination yet even with all her exposure to Reaper tech; perhaps it _was_ that her mind had evolved, perhaps this thing could not manage a human’s wrath, or perhaps she was just too goddamn stubborn. With her final faint connection to the conscious world, she felt her mind become free and the ancient Intelligence, what the Prothean’s called Catalyst, fall under her control. _Time to die._

 

* * *

It was expected that Death would free you from pain. What benefit would there be in an afterlife of torment that never ceased? _Hell. Hell is empty. Why? The devils are here. The devils are in the real world._ The scream of the Banshee, the shambling run of the husks, the abominations _._ If all of them are out of hell, wouldn’t hell by quiet and empty? _No. Noise and pain, shrieks and wails, that’s all that she could feel. Darkness. No sight. The only taste is iron and ash, blood and sulphur. This wasn’t the future, it wasn’t supposed to be what she planned. What was the plan? Thoughts, plans, memories. A memory of a kinder afternoon._

* * *

 

The door to the apartment slid open and Garrus walked in, making a beeline to the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. Shepard was lying on one of the couches by the fireplace with a pillow on her chest to prop up the datapad she was currently using.

                “You ok?” She selected a new template, this one entitled ‘Property Damage – Public’. The fridge door opened and he said something that was muffled behind layers of steel, food and alcohol.

                “What’s that?” She asked, her voice was distracted as she filled in the template with her personal information. _Name: Charlotte Shepard, Age: 32,_ _Contact Information:_ …

                “I said, I am dating this woman who can save planets and call it a day’s work, but can’t seem to open a message without unleashing a virus that causes havoc on the people of the Citadel.”

                “Hmm. Sounds annoying – have you thought of getting rid of her?”

                “Never.” His voice was full of good humour.

She looked up to see him standing above her with a human beer in one hand and a turian beer in the other. He handed her a beer and went to sit on the couch she was currently occupying.

                “Thank you.” She pushed herself up into a sitting position, the pillow and datapad sliding into her lap. “You know I can’t resist reading every message I get.”

He answered by taking a swig of alcohol.

                “Besides, I am Commander Shepard, I should have better anti-virus software.”

                “The best software can’t prevent someone willfully selecting infected links. Do you know that every single one of the Council’s assistant’s devices were infected? I just spent a fun four hours dealing with that mess.”

                “How do we know that there isn’t another clone of me, running around sending malware links to people in my contact list?”

                “ _Charlie.”_ Garrus said with emphasis.

Since boot-camp, she had been called almost exclusively _Shep_ or _Shepard_. It had become a nick name and she had become so accustomed to being called by her surname that being called Charlotte or Charlie was jarring.

                “Okay, okay.” She moved so she was sitting next to him. “I promise I will try my very hardest to not open up suspicious messages.”

He clinked her bottle with his. “I’ll drink to that.”

They both sat drinking their beer in companionable silence. Outside the apartment, just beyond the glass walls, the traffic rushed by in the shadowy, neon lit corridor. Shepard rested her head against his shoulder and watched the silent chaos, the property damage report now forgotten. They each got half way through their bottles before Garrus shifted towards her.

                “This,” He paused, looking around the space. “Has been nice.”

                “The apartment?”

He cocked his head to a subtle angle, a turian gesture that was comparable to a human nod.

                “I suppose we’ll have to find somewhere else to live when Anderson comes back for it.” Shepard regretted the sentence the moment she said it, and grief and anxiety swelled up inside. A flash of the same emotion passed behind Garrus’ eyes, Earth was in terrible shape and for Anderson it might not be _when_ , but _if._ They were on mandatory shore-leave while the Normandy was undergoing repairs from their most recent skirmish. That did not completely do away with the guilt of relaxing while others were fighting. A moment of silence passed between them, both in ponderous thought of their own home world, but neither willing to bring the reality of the war into this home.

                “You don’t think the Admiral would want us as roommates?” He was trying to alleviate the mood, his tone cheerful.

                “Well the place is big enough, he might not actually come across us.” She pushed down the guilt and smiled. “But it would definitely feel like moving in with the parents.”

                “We’ve lived from moment to moment for so long, have you ever thought of the future? Our future?”

She had thought of it quite a bit actually. What she had told him about their separation and her incarceration hadn’t been trite remarks. The idea of Garrus being out free in the galaxy and the idea of seeing him again was truly what had made her able to endure the political bullshit of her circumstance. At that point she would have been pleased with simple companionship, but now the idea of spending a life together was intoxicating. She wanted it.

                “As long as we’re together, I’m game.”

                “Where would we live?”

She shrugged. “Maybe the Citadel if it hasn’t been blown to shit.”

                “We’re a bit too high profile for the Citadel.”

Shepard barked out a laugh. “You’re a little too big for your britches.”

He made a gesture around his ears that was a universal signal for translator glitch. “I understood each of those words, but it made absolutely no sense.”

Her grin grew bigger. Rumour had it that many of the asari and salarian linguists and researchers had to take a leave of absence after working on getting the various human languages into the universal translators. _Why do all goddamn humans speak in meaningless phrases? Do they not know how to express themselves with just words?_

                “Don’t think we could carve ourselves a peaceful living here?”

                “Nope.” He polished off the rest of his drink.

                “By that logic, most places are off limit.” The message light from her omni-tool began flashing, but she ignored it. EDI had programmed an override in her comm system so that if the message was important enough she could make it play automatically. If EDI didn’t think it was important, Shepard didn’t need to see it right away.

                “We’ve spent most of our time on human ships and accommodations.” That fact was due more to convenience than preference. “What about a turian colony?”

                “Hmm-“ His reply was cut off as the apartment door slid open. She was beginning to deeply regret giving the Normandy crew omni-tool codes for the apartment.

Vega sauntered in, stopping dead in his tracks. “Sorry boss, sent a message, but no one replied. Figured this space was empty.”

She stared murderously at the blinking light. “Did you send it from outside the door?”

                “Nah, on the way up. I mean, if you guys are gonna bone, I can get outta here. Just wanted to crash for a while.”

Living on a ship led to a certain intimacy that made many people uncomfortable, while others learned to adapt. James Vega clearly did not fall into the former. Living in close quarters with so many people, you heard and _heard_ everything. Shepard had long ago dropped the pretense of discretion and desire for privacy. She also lived a life where others had to accommodate around her, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t mindful of other people’s comfort levels. Garrus was difficult sometimes. His feelings on privacy depended on his mood and the audience.

                “Stay if you want. If we decide to ‘bone’ we’ll go to a room.”

He chuckled nervously. “Right. Okay – I’ll be in the game room.”

They watched him leave for the back of the apartment before speaking.

                “He has some good ideas.”

                “Uhh-“ She turned back to Garrus. “About fucking? Now?”

                “No – well, yes, but – er, spirits.”

She loved when he got flustered. It was rare and wonderful.

                “I _was_ thinking about some training regimens Vega suggested for the militia that’s forming here.” He shook his head, a human gesture that he had picked up over time. “Now I can’t talk about it seriously. Not while you’re looking at me.”

Shepard reached up and planted a quick kiss on a tender part of his neck. His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her up so she was straddling him.

                “Okay, okay.” Her voice laughing. “If we’re going to do this, I need to finish my report first.”

Sex with a turian was _an_ _event_. There was a decent amount of prep work involved and it usually worked better when scheduled, much to both of their consternation. It didn’t help that neither of them were normally attracted to the other’s species so much of their fumbling’s had been trial and error. Figuring out a new way to fuck had been weird for both of them.

Garrus grumbled a couple untranslatable curses and eventually set her back down.

                “You finish your report, I’ll go talk to the lieutenant about his ideas.”

She was very tempted to make a raunchy joke, but bit her tongue and smiled. “Have fun.”

Picking up the datapad, she mindlessly filled in more of the required information, trying her best to push back the fatalistic voice in her mind that mocked her for dreaming of a future. _No._ She had already died yet here she was, why should she be afraid of the future?

 


	2. The In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt and disoriented, Commander Shepard tries to make sense of her circumstance.

No light, no smells, no sound. Coldness washed over Shepard’s body and icy fingers began moving over her shoulders and chest. _Not in control._ Someone touching her - this was her body, not theirs. But she had no agency, no ability to react. Ever since she was a child, the capacity to take control and lead had always been a facet of her personality. It was only thanks to patient parents that she grew up living a life where abusing this skill was rarely a consideration. Now she was powerless. She was not in charge. Even the idea of it made her mind itchy. 

The darkness remained absolute and there was a pressure constricting all around her, keeping her still. The touch of the fingers returned, exploring, inspecting. A faint sigh from somewhere close. Nearby, but not from a direction she could perceive. _Could they help?_ Far away mumblings increased in volume, but became no more distinct. How had she allowed this to happen? Who had made her powerless?

_The Enemy._

That was a list with many names. She struggled to untangle the knots in her memory. Who was the enemy? Who took her power? _Torfan._ The word popped up to the surface like debris disturbed from a watery grave. _Skyllian Blitz_. More followed. _Victory at all cost. Slavers. Tomas Atlee._ But she had survived Torfan unscathed, hadn’t she? Was her memory wrong? She remembered that the major – that Kyle grieved; he had too much sorrow to be angry. Couldn’t cope with the loss of so many soldiers under his command. _That’s our fucking job, sir_. Had she really said that? _We die so civilians don’t. That’s our job._ Torfan and the Skyllian Blitz had been a nasty affair. _If I called a retreat they would have escaped! How many more would be enslaved if that happened? I made the right call!_ More words, said in anger and grief. Shepard mourned, but she was able to hide behind the training and indoctrination that the military offered.

 

 _Duty, orders, command._ Memories of early days.

 _“Did I say you could cry, soldier?” The recruitment commander shouted the words at Shepard, she was so close the faint smell of coffee was still noticeable on her breath. This instructor was a hard edged woman with no apparent_ _softness, literal or otherwise. Her skin was stretched tight across her face, giving an almost skeletal appearance, but this was in no means a frail woman._

 _“No, ma’am.”_ Mean old bitch.

_“Then why are you crying?” The instructor stepped closer into her personal space._

_“I’m not, ma’am.” Tears streamed down her face._

 

A quick memory that left as soon as it came. _Tomas Atlee_. She lost track of him in the chaos after the assault, he was nowhere to be seen. Her mind kept returning to him, to Torfan. Why? The assault was successful. _A_ t _great cost … Can a cost be too great?_ Someone important had asked the question.

Murmurs grew louder, but still unclear. Like listening to sounds underwater. Without any other point of reference, she moved towards it, willing herself through the void. The dull sounds had enough of a pattern for her brain to reckon it was a conversation, but it was still too far away.

Pressure gripped her hand. She was making progress. The same pattern of sounds began repeating over and over. Shepard’s focus shifted back and forth from the noise to the pressure around her hand.

                “…etheart…”

 _Mom?_ She meant to speak the word, but there was no voice.

                “Sweetheart?” The voice repeated.

Shepard struggled to open her eyes, her mouth, but nothing happened.

                “Charlie, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

 _Yes._ She heard a ragged breath. Hers. Something was preventing her from speaking. Blocking her words.

                “Oh my god – Garrus! I think she’s waking up.” Her mother’s voice, speaking to someone. A friend?

There was a noise she didn’t understand. No - _words_ she didn’t understand.

_A room full of rowdy students were silenced as the teacher stood in front of the social studies classroom. They were young enough to be excited, but not old enough for apathy to set in. They were having a special class and they were eager to see who had been invited to speak._

_“Everyone, we have some very special guests, and I want you to be on your best behaviour.” Three aliens walked into the classroom. A bunch of wide-eyed pre-teens stared at the group, many eyeing the turian with a degree of fear and suspicion._

_“While they are telling you who they are, I want you all to turn off your translators. This will allow you to hear them in their own language and then I want you to turn them back on and they will repeat what they have said. There will be a quiz on what they talk about and an excuse of forgetting to turn your translator on is unacceptable.”_

Turian. The words she did not understand, it was a turian speaking in their own language. Not translated.

                “Good morning.” Another voice, this time speaking English. The pressure on her hands disappeared. “Commander Shepard can you hear me? Squeeze my hand twice if you can.”

The pressure returned. She squeezed twice. “Very good, that’s very good. I am doctor Sajal Khan and I am one of the people taking care of you.”

She continued speaking, but her voice began fading as if she was under water again. There had to be something wrong with her ears, but she couldn’t touch them and inspect. Her arm wouldn’t move, which is precisely when she began to panic.

                “Mm..” She tried speaking, making a tiny bit more progress than last time. “He-… m-”

Her heart began racing, faster than it ever had before. The thing felt like it was about to explode. Around her, the voices faded faster and faster, she was being dragged away from her mom. Back to the lonely void.

 

* * *

 

**Glossary**

**Major Kyle** - a former Alliance officer who served at the battle of Torfan in 2178. Kyle was Shepard's commanding officer during the Torfan raid and the loss of so many people under his command was too much for him to cope with.

 **Skyllian Blitz** \- A major (but failed) assault on the human colony of Elysium in 2176. A huge band of pirates, slavers, and batarian warlords, partly funded by batarian financiers, launched an attack into the Skyllian Verge, intending to destroy Elysium.

 **Torfan** - a small moon that served as base for criminals, mostly batarians, who built strongholds deep underground. In retaliation for the Skyllian Blitz, the Systems Alliance raided Torfan in 2178. Though the Alliance took heavy losses, the enemy was completely annihilated. After Torfan, the batarians began retreating from Citadel space.

Shout-out to the wikia for the specifics: <http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Mass_Effect_Wiki>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a couple paragraphs that bridged the first chapter with the next one that I am writing, but it went a bit longer than that. I am in no shape or form medically trained, I am just writing based off my sister's experience of being unconscious. The main things she talks about is being heavily disoriented, confused - remembering random events as she tried to figure out what was going on, her brain being fuzzy and the memories scattered, thinking she was waking up from a previous injury, etc. Also, I'm thinking I should write up a glossary of sorts for some of the things referenced here as some of them were really only mentioned very briefly in game.


	3. The Forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard struggles to remember. Post events of Mass Effect 3.

Shepard woke in pain. She was weak, she was nauseous, and regardless of just coming into consciousness, she was exhausted in a way she had never experienced before. There was an overwhelming urge to jump out of her bed and flee, a confusing reaction because she couldn’t place the threat and despite this, a bone-deep lethargy that kept her functionally paralyzed. The instinct to run but the lack of will to move left her feeling uncomfortable and anxious. Full hearing had returned, and the beeps and whirs of the room were now buzzing into her skull. She shook her head in an attempt to lose the noise. The motion sent white hot pain searing through her brain _. Don’t move_. Holding still, she tried controlling her breath, focusing on her heart rate. It was too much, she was too weak. The pain burned through her nerves and she passed out.

Shepard woke in pain. She was weak, she was nauseous, and regardless of just coming into consciousness, she was still exhausted. Try as she might, she could not remember how she had been hurt. She was sure Torfan had been a successful mission. _And_ she had been one of the few unscathed. A door opened, and voices entered the room.

“Her body has been made whole, it’s just a matter of time now. She will wake when she is ready, but she will still need to go through years of rehabilitation and therapy.”

“I guess I – we – just want to know what we can do?” _Mom._ A weathered hand squeezed hers and some of her anxiety ebbed. She let her focus drift from the conversation and tried instead on opening her eyes. A bright white light stung her vision and she rapidly blinked. There was a quick spasm of pain that started behind her eyes and went to the center of her skull.

“Mom?” Her voice cracked.

“Oh, Charlie!” Hands clasped her face and the pressure caused significant discomfort. She inhaled sharply, and the hands left.

“Charlie how are you feeling?”

 _Like I’ve been through the fucking ringer. “_ Terrible. It hurts-” She couldn’t quite summon the energy to explain how she felt.

“I’m so glad – so happy you’re awake. We were so scared …" There were tears in the corner of her mom’s eyes. Hannah Shepard was an outstanding officer in her own right and in her eyes there was the pain and burden of command that Shepard was beginning to understand. She was so sure of her decisions in battle, but that didn’t stop a part of her from aching over lives lost. Not that she ever let it show. It was much easier to hide behind a shield of bluster.

“Take your time, you don’t need to say anything if it’s too hard.” Her mom looked pounds lighter and years older, with new scars to boot.

“There’s - troubles …" Shepard’s voice faded.

“Troubles?” Hannah’s hand hovered over Shepard’s arm before remembering her daughter’s earlier reaction. At the end of her bed, a human woman in a doctor's uniform and a similarly dressed asari stood patiently.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Well,” She tried rubbing her eyes and her hands trembled for a few seconds, then dropped back to the bed. “I can’t move. Good. Can’t move good.” Her voice cut out towards the end of the sentence.

“Can she have a drink?” Her mom looked towards the other two. The human doctor nodded and the asari left the room, returning with a small disposable cup. She said something in her own language, and Shepard shook her head.

“Sorry Commander.” Lieutenant Commander, her brain corrected. The asari frowned, speaking again, but in a heavily accented english. “Your translator was removed during your recovery, I should have remembered. My name is Isissa Lesan.” She had a kind smile. “Here have a sip.”

Shepard coughed, but was glad for the refreshing cool of the water. “Thanks.”

It was at this moment that the door to her room flew open and in rushed a turian, followed by Admiral Hackett. Her mother stood up and gave both a meaningful look. The turian spoke first, more words she didn’t understand.

“Get me a translator.” The small bit of water had done wonders for clearing up a parched and irritated throat.

“We are going to let you recuperate some mor-” The human doctor began.

“I’m not asking for a fucking implant, just get me something temporary.”

“Charlie, I’ll help.” Her mom sat down next to the bed. “Garrus just asked how you’re feeling. He wants to know if you are up to talking?”

She frowned at the turian and turned back to her mother. “What happened to Tomas?”

Her mom looked at her with a questioning eye and then turned to Hackett. He shrugged.

“Tomas Atlee?” Shepard coughed. “H-he was missing after the assault.”

“Oh.” Mom looked to the turian, her expression filtering through realization, fear, empathy.

Hackett had pulled something up on his omni-tool. “Shit.” He breathed. “Tomas Atlee, lieutenant, alliance Navy. He was killed during the assault on Torfan.”

A chill gripped her gut. “Dead?” Her throat began to close, and tears threatened the corners of her eyes.

“Charlie, what was the last thing you remember?”

Something was very wrong, everyone in the room had moved from happiness to various levels of distress. She was the cause, but she couldn’t place why.

“It’s a bit fuzzy.” _Torfan. Slavers. Victory at all cost._ “We just raided the slaver base.”

“And where was the slaver base?”

Shepard looked around at the growing group of people gathering around her bed and became annoyed. There was the feeling that she was doing something wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what she could do or say that would be correct.

“Torfan – Torfan?”

Her mom struggled to save face, but Shepard knew by a metric she didn’t understand that she had said the wrong thing. The turian was agitated. Upset? He was looking at her and speaking, then saying something to the doctors. Everyone was listening with sympathetic expressions. Her mom shook her head.

“What is going on?” Shepard’s heart started racing. An unusual experience of weakness and anxiety was amplified. “Someone tell what the hell is going on.”

The human doctor finally stepped forwards. “Commander Shepard,” _Lieutenant Commander._ “Your time on Torfan happened a few years ago, but you have experienced substantial trauma and this sort of dissociative am-”

More words from the turian, interrupting the doctor.

“Stop! Someone get me a fucking translator, right fucking now – or get him out of here.” She was being irrational, but she had emotions she couldn’t understand, and she didn’t have the patience to try and understand.

“Mr. Vakarian, perhaps for now, you can step outside.” The doctor started to say, but Hannah Shepard rose to her full five foot and a bit frame and grabbed the turian’s wrist.

“No. Garrus stays. And get my daughter a translator, do what she says.”

“Admiral Shepard,” The doctor was remaining commendably calm.

“Yes, Dr Khan?”

 _Admiral. The fuck?_ The asari - Isissa, left the room. Shepard looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears away. No such luck. The room swam as tears streamed down her face and an intense weariness settled in once more. Would she ever reach a point where she did not wake up exhausted? Crying was new. She hadn’t properly cried since bootcamp, which now felt like an eternity past. Frustrating too, as she couldn’t properly place the exact cause of her tears. This current situation was disheartening, but nothing to get misty eyed over. She tried brushing them away, but she couldn’t control the tremor that shook her hands. She had no power, no control. Squeezing her eyes shut, she listened while her mom scolded the various people gathered.

“...my child is alive...” Words were being yelled. A memory of reading from a ship’s terminal forced itself into her mind.

_So I have to find out my child is alive third-hand from the Alliance brass? Where the hell have you been? I figure whatever you're doing is classified, likely part of your Spectre operations. Just stay safe out there, and keep doing your mom proud. And sneak something through a secure channel next time. Love, Your mother_

Was she a Spectre? A human Spectre? That didn’t seem right. Shepard frowned and opened her eyes, looking up at those gathered. “Was I a Spectre?”

Everyone turned to her and her mom grabbed her hand.

“Are you remembering?”

The others all began talking at once. She wanted to interject but her attention was fading once again. What was there to remember?

* * *

**Glossary**

**Torfan**  - a small moon that served as base for criminals, mostly batarians, who built strongholds deep underground. In retaliation for the Skyllian Blitz, the Systems Alliance raided Torfan in 2178. Though the Alliance took heavy losses, the enemy was completely annihilated. After Torfan, the batarians began retreating from Citadel space.

Shout-out to the wikia for the specifics: <http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Mass_Effect_Wiki>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have to say, kudos to all the fan-fic writers I've loved before. IT IS HARD TO WRITE! That being said, I love writing whatever trash I'm coming up with here. Also I don't know if anyone reading this has tips on how to format text in ao3 because it's a complete ball ache for me. I hope this has been readable???? I usually write in microsoft word and copy/paste into ao3 and then format. Also also, For those that are reading each chapter of this I should have another chapter edited and posted between now and Nov 7. This ended up being another short one, I was meaning to post them together as one chapter, but I was worried it would be too long all together.


	4. The Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard begins the long road to recovery.

Shepard woke with a mind clearer than it had been in days. Pain was minimal and she only felt mildly tired. Every time she came into consciousness, she felt a little more in control and a little more aware of her surroundings. The small things were annoying her, such as the constant company and the many looks of pity, but now the room was quiet and blessedly empty. Chaotic energy was not conducive to any manner of self-care and so far, her room felt like the center point for utter madness. The past few days had been a mish-mash of hopeless frustration and anger, along with the entertainment of watching her mom bring the full power of her admiralty into obtaining a translator. Oddly enough, the doctor was dead-set against it. Slowly and carefully sitting up, she observed the space around her.

They had dimmed the bright overhead light and there was no evidence of the current time. The area was awash in a dull silver colour thanks to a screen on the far side that had been left powered. It projected a word and symbol that lazily spun in place. A fraction of a second passed before her brain interpreted the symbol as an asari icon for medicine. The asari equivalent of the caduceus. The words proclaimed the name of a ship, the Alune. Shepard couldn’t speak or read their language above a basic tourist level of understanding, so something was doing the work for her.

A metallic pinch around her ears became an unavoidable irritation and she reached up to investigate. Wonder of wonders, her body obeyed; her fingers explored the recognizable edges of a temporary translator. _Finally._ Good ole mom. It didn’t matter how old she got, her mom always had her back.

A ball of anxiety dissipated as the ability to understand gave way to a more complete feeling of control.

Testing her reflexes and new-found motor control, a metal squeak and slight shift of material sounded from a shadowy corner.

“Who’s there?” _Kill it._

She reached for the fork from a nearby tray of uneaten food. The hurried motion shot bolts of pain up her arms and through her chest. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she maintained her grip on the makeshift weapon in her hand and glared at the corner. The turian from earlier leaned forwards into the dim light. _Garrus._

“I can go get your mother - the doctors -” Thank god, she could understand his words. He stood and she lowered her fork.

“Nah, it’s ok. Sit with me for a second.”

“Yeah, of course.” He dragged the chair he was sitting on over to her bedside. “Are you remembering things?

“Kinda.” Before she had been confused and disoriented, her brain struggling to make sense of her circumstance. She was becoming aware that Torfan happened some time ago, but it was like recalling a dream. Her memories were there but they were cloudy and at the edges of her mind. “You’re a cop.”

A sharp laugh escaped, despite himself. “I suppose that was true, but those days feel long gone.” He watched her shrewdly. “What do you remember?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her expression. “You carry yourself like a fucking cop, ok.”

He sighed but kept up a pleasant demeanour. Shifting in the seat, he pulled at the edges of his outfit, making unnecessary adjustments. “Do you mind telling me about Tomas Atlee?”

Shepard frowned. She couldn’t explain why her mind had been so focused on her old friend. He was an important part of her life during her formative years and a comrade in arms as grown-ups. Sighing deeply, she faced the friendly turian and sat cross-legged on the bed.

“He was a childhood friend. We grew up on the same ship.”

He nodded but remained silent.

“Okay,” She exhaled, emotions swelling she couldn’t reckon with. “He died at Torfan.” She said with hesitation. “No, he died at Torfan.” This time with certainty.

“Many did.”

How could she explain her disoriented fixation? “I keep thinking about him, about _it._ I can’t stop feeling like I've made a terrible decision.” It felt shameful to admit.

The turian – _Garrus –_ shifted in his chair, he wanted to say something, but he was holding onto his words.

“Say what you want to say.”

“We - hmm...” His mandibles twitched, and he stared at the ground. “We talked about him – some time ago – back when you were feeling the same way.”

“Yeah?” When had she become such an indecisive person? “What way was that?”

“You had become doubtful about the cost of victory.”

A rush of thoughts and past words flooded her mind.

_Victory at all cost. At great cost. It's not fair. I shouldn’t have to choose. Can a cost be too great?_

* * *

  _Previously_

Shepard threw her helmet to the floor and it skittered across the surface of the vehicle bay, stopping against a stack of crates. She had doffed her armour except for boots and the formfitting suit worn under her chest pieces, gauntlets, and greaves. Kicking at one crate, she stumbled and fell heavily into them.

“Fucking shit, balls, fuck.” She moved to sit on the crates and froze. The elevator doors of the vehicle bay opened and Garrus walked on in. He saw her and became stock-still, looking ready to back out of the area.

She struggled to right herself and managed a sitting position. “Are the others on their way down?”

He made as if to leave but thought better. “No, they’re still drinking and remembering.”

“Good.” Her eyes were burning and her heart was heavy.

“I can leave.”

She shrugged and couldn’t bring herself to speak. After a moment of indecision, he walked over and grabbed one of the heavy crates, placing it across from her.

“We’ll be at the Citadel soon.”

“Great.” She clasped her hands and leaned forwards, not wanting to look in the eyes of yet another individual who turned to her for guidance. “And soon we’ll be big damn heroes and you’ll return from this little vacation to a respectable job with C-Sec. Glad I could inspire you. Cheers.”

She hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but there it was. Who the hell knew if the translator could pick up on it. Garrus took a seat on the opposite crate and they both sat in awkward silence for a few short seconds.

“Did you know Kaiden well?”

She shook her head. Garrus seemed to be figuring out how to approach a topic and a small part of her heart warmed to this unlikely ally he had become. Adjusting the collar of his hard-suit, he matched her posture, but watched her carefully.

“At C-Sec I worked with this one officer – the only human officer in that entire ward section - he was untouchable. Complete opposite of Harkin. Nothing seemed to shake him, he didn’t even want to take time off when an impossible decision he made caused his partner to get killed.”

Shepard inhaled sharply and Garrus paused, waiting to see if she would speak. She didn’t.

“About a month later he was expected to bring in a couple of his CIs but exposing them like that would put them in danger. He couldn’t do it. Something to do with the previous trauma of his partner dying locked him up – he froze.”

 _Shit._ She rubbed her eyes and returned his watchful stare. The fucking stick in the mud turian coming in with insight far beyond her expectation. He was a cop and a turian – had mandatory military service – of all people he would know what headspace she was in.

“What happened?”

He breathed in heavily. “Without the CIs testimony and no new leads, the killings continued – the CIs panicked and exposed themselves – they became victims.”

Shepard nodded, she knew what he was getting at, but the story didn’t squelch the misery. “Do you know my history?”

“I checked your public records before joining the Normandy.”

“I’ve had to make hard calls before. Torfan – I faced letting the slaver’s retreat or saving my people and I told my soldiers – my friends - to keep fighting. In my mind I kept seeing the piles of bodies of colonists who tried to fight back, or the countless cages of humans chained up like animals and I would not give the batarians another chance to do that again. My commanding officers agreed – victory at any cost – but...” She didn't want to say it, indecision was weakness.

“Can a cost be too great?” He finished.  _Exactly._

“It didn’t hit me until I got word that my best friend,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Tomas Atlee did not survive the assault. And it’s not like I fucking ended slavery at Torfan. And now Kaiden is dead, but Saren escaped – god knows what else he is doing while we have to report to the Citadel.”

“Except if my co-worker brought in his CIs, the killer might have been caught. And your decision at Torfan pushed batarians out of Citadel space.” His expression turned to admiration. “Listen commander, I have had conversations with people who fought in the Krogan Rebellions. _Our_ galaxy is not ready to fight a krogan horde. Staff Lieutenant Alenko saved millions – maybe billions – with his sacrifice.”

“It still hurts like hell.” As she advanced further in the military, those consequences only grew larger and more complicated. She knew it was the right choice, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like shit when others paid the price. However, despite her current state of mind, this had been a good conversation. A simple talk that had made an impossible burden feel a little lighter.

Garrus cleared his throat. “Sounds like someone is coming; are you okay?”

“I will be.” Shepard reached for her helmet and stood but stopped before heading to her locker. “Thanks, Garrus. Thanks for talking.” She held out her hand and he stood, grasping her forearm. A turian parting tradition.

“You’re welcome, but I didn’t do much.”

“No, but you got my head out my ass.”

The turian reached up to where his translator implant was and gave her the oddest of looks. A grin spread across her face, the first real smile in some time.

* * *

  _Now_

Shepard closed her eyes in an attempt at counteracting the acute dizziness that suddenly plagued her mind. The moment when Garrus became more than just an asset for a mission remained clear in her mind. A frightening rush of clarity came over her and as the haziness of her mind lifted, she remembered everything. There was no longer a sense she had forgotten, but that her confused emotions had been drifting from the memories that shaped them. Now anchored, her emotions and mental state were raw, but there was an indescribable relief.

Garrus reached out for her and stopped, his hand hovering over her legs.

“Garrus!” She clasped his hand and held out her other arm, reaching for him. She didn’t need to explain herself, he saw the transformation in her face. 

* * *

 

Pulling her from the bed, Garrus held her close. Unsure of what to say, he let this titan of a woman grieve in his arms, offering comfort where he could. The only thing he was sure of was that he never wanted to let her go again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say here other than that I love my small angry version of Commander Shepard. Writing this is sparing my brother from having to endure my many feelings of the shep/garrus ship. Also much love to the auto-correct in word that wants to change this fic into a story about a human and a durian which would would be a bold choice for relationships.


	5. The Importance of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard continues her recovery while facing an unexpected turn of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two OCs, Nurse Isissa Lesan and Dr. Sajal Khan have a bigger part to play in this and upcoming chapters. They were mentioned briefly in [Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353392/chapters/38610695) in a blink and you miss it paragraph.

The artificial light of the atrium had been dialed down to a summer evening’s glow. Atmospheric sounds were streaming from a comm-system designed to create an experience; a gentle breeze rustling through dry grass, the low call of a loon, a babbling brook. Whoever oversaw the room’s aesthetic filter seemed to have loaded the Earth Northern Summer Cabin settings.

Shepard sat on a bench pushed into the nook of a hanging garden that took up most of the area. _Admiral_ Hannah Shepard had been called to aid Hackett in convincing politicians to provision temporary tent cities in the more wide-open areas of Earth. Few humans lived in the deserts, but the environment was comfortable living for the turians and krogan. Waiting for her mother’s embarcation, Shepard was biding time in the garden. The cultivated area was filled with beautiful and wild asari plants that bloomed and flowered over every surface. The entire garden designed to bring calm to the viewer. A rested mind. She couldn’t speak to that, but she didn’t feel like murdering anyone.

Since she gained consciousness, every day was a struggle to be still. To not be at the center of what was happening to the galaxy, to take the time her body and mind needed to heal. If she was being honest with herself, she was too tired and weak to be involved with anyone’s bullshit. But she couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t confide this to her mom, not to Garrus.

So she recovered in a beautiful garden on an asari medical ship, trying to occupy her time. A bowl of unpleasant mush was sitting on the bench next to her, uneaten, a freshly procured datapad in hand. Before Garrus left, he had smuggled random bits and bobs into her room, one of these items a datapad which she was reconfiguring to her ID.

A nearby door slid open; it was out of view, but she listened to the sounds of a single person entering the atrium. The light padding of footsteps grew louder and turned in her direction. Her eyes turned to the cane at her side, the only object in the vicinity that she could into a weapon. _No need. No threat here._ She finished logging in as Nurse Isissa Lesan stepped in to view.

“Commander Shepard.”

“Nurse Lesan.”

“A medical professional must monitor you at all times.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and may I remind you it is important to eat the portions given to you.” She gestured to the mush at Shepard’s right.

“I’m sure.” Shepard stared the asari down, but she remained unshakeable. “So do I have to leave?”

“No. You may stay as long as I remain.”

There wasn’t enough interest in the conversation for her to be argumentative. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the screen. As her profile loaded up, the unread messages tally froze and then turned into a series of dashes. Too many to count.

The first hundred subject lines bled into each other, reading like the desperate prayers of people with nowhere to turn. Opting for the search function, she typed “Liara” and the messages filtered after a short delay. The most recent one boasted a time stamp from a few days ago. It was brief, only one line.

 

_Heard you have recovered, will visit soon._

 

The next message had a timestamp from two-and-a-half weeks ago.

 

_Shepard,_

_I should have never doubted your survival. If anyone could survive the Reapers, it would be you. My agent tells me you are having difficulties with your memory? If that is the case, this message may not be read for some time. Regardless, I wish I could be at your side, perhaps my abilities could assist with your current predicament. As you can imagine, my line of work puts me in a unique position to help coordinate resources and support the recovery. In the meantime, I have assigned one of my best agents to watch over you. They have informed me that your minders are reticent on keeping you up to date on your people. I am not comfortable relaying the information using this connection, my agent will endeavour to answer any question you have._

 

Shepard looked up at Lesan. She stood like a soldier and had a stare that could stop a charging Krogan—yet her voice was gentle and _if_ she smiled, it lit up the room. Of course she was an agent of the Shadow Broker.

“She's hired you to spy on me?”

The asari’s eyes widened with a fleeting expression of surprise. “I am your nurse.”

“But we have a shared _friend_ , right?” Shepard wiggled her eyebrows.

“As your _nurse_ I have sworn to protect you—but yes we have a mutual _friend_.”

“Can you talk about what has happened since -?” She couldn’t complete the sentence.

Shepard set the datapad down and picked up the bowl. “Here, I’ll eat this terrible disgusting medicine food if you answer my questions.”

“Dr. Khan wants potential triggering influences kept at a minimum.”

“Well, fuck her. Don’t you think it’s odd she keeps insisting I be kept in the dark?”

Lesan said nothing, but she didn’t need to. It was clear in her expression she didn’t prescribe to the doctor’s strict terms.

“I want an update on my friends. Besides _our_ friend said you would help.”

The doctor had been vigilant in her attempts to shield Shepard from the outside world. She had somehow even convinced her mom and Garrus to hold back on discussing the current state of the galaxy. Well - Garrus, less so. He had at least told her of known survivors from their circles. James and Tali still recovered from critical injuries, even these many months later.

A tiny smile pulled at Lesan’s lips. “I suppose an update will be fine. I don’t want to upset _our friend_.”

What a time to live in when Liara’s name invoked a fear that Shepard’s did not.

“Good.” The only beneficial part of not being in the know was that her ignorance kept all her comrades alive and well, if only in her mind. “What can you tell me about my team?”

The nurse typed something into her omni-tool and waved it at the datapad. The screen updated, showing lists of familiar names and places. Now with the information in reach, she hesitated. As if the months spent unconscious hadn’t removed her from reality, this ship and its occupants kept her disconnected. It had been so easy to not fight against those wanting to unburden her mind, to go along with what the doctors _weren’t_ saying. With a heavy heart, she picked up the datapad. Names and details scrolled across the screen.

 

_Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams_

_Status: Alive._

_Last known location: Earth._

 

_Garrus Vakarian_

_Status: Alive._

_Last known location: Medical ship Alune in Sol System._

 

_Lieutenant James Vega_

_Status: Alive. Lost both legs during the final push in London. Outfitted with prosthetics._

_Last know location: Earth._

 

_Flight Lieutenant Jeff “Joker” Moreau_

_Status: Alive._

_Last known location: Varies; remains with Normandy_

 

_Tali'Zorah nar Rayya(vas Normandy?)_

_Status: Alive; recovering._

_Last known location: Quarian vessel in Sol system._

 

The names continued, but she scanned through the list and her eyes caught the sub-title _Unknown._ The names below were few; _Javik, Miranda, Samara_

 

And below that, _Confirmed Dead_ ; _EDI, Jacob Taylor, Zaeed Massani_

 

EDI. Another casualty. Another soldier to pay the price of her decisions. Shepard couldn’t allow the galaxy to pay the price, they hadn’t signed up for annihilation, hadn’t signed up for the fight. _Murderer. You murdered her._ No, there was no other way, it was the cost of victory. _But._ Had EDI known it was coming? Would she have understood? Were there any telltale symptoms—or did the Catalyst simply snuff her life out in an instant? She had still been forming her personhood and now she was nothing. There was a sadness in every death, but Zaeed and Jacob were fighters and soldiers. EDI was something rare and special; the loss was a terrible price for the victory gained. Too many goddamn friends—too many good people lost.

As a soldier, Shepard was ruthless and when she made a command, it had been absolute. The past three years had been a slow course correction from that point of view.

She cleared her throat. Years of training allowed her to swallow her emotions.

“How did they die?”

Lesan averted her gaze.

“Report.” Shepard’s voice had a hard edge.

“At the moment of the Reapers destruction, there was much collateral damage. Many were killed by explosions or shockwaves emanating from the structures. Some by shrapnel.”

Shepard could feel the thin metal she held in her hands warp, cold anger coursing through her veins. There was no outlet for her anger now, the Reapers were no more.

“Give me a moment.”

Lesan fidgeted in her spot, but after a brief consideration, turned on her heal and walked back around the corner of a raised garden plot. The footsteps stopped as soon as she was out of sight, but at least she had the illusion of privacy. The datapad clattered to the ground if she held it any longer it would have snapped in two. Exhaling, she put her head in her hands, hoping to stave off an incoming headache. The logic part of her brain reiterated that the outcome would have been worse, that their sacrifices were not only important, but expected. It didn’t stop other parts of her brain from reminding her of all that had been lost along the way. _Kaiden, Mordin, Thane, Anderson._ The memories would surface without warning, interrupting any daily routine she was hoping to establish for herself. The death of David Anderson had been the hardest to reckon with, and it was the one she had to relive the most. During the early days of regaining her memory, Admiral Hackett had her questioned again and again, wanting every detail of her time in the Citadel, Anderson’s death, the Illusive Man—everything. That repetition numbed many intense emotions, and in their place left a dull ache.

It was becoming difficult to summon a passionate response when her emotions were being bombarded over and over with the toll of the last three years.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in until her lungs were full; held it, counting down as she did, and then exhaled. _If you ever feel anxious or uncomfortable with the tension building up, I want you to practice these breathing techniques._ The words of her assigned therapist popped into her mind. She repeated the exercise, marvelling at how after all these years the most effective calming procedure was still to regulate breathing.

The moment passed and she reached for the datapad. It didn’t take long to delete the new information and power down the screen before returning it to the satchel across her chest. Enough time had passed; her mother would be leaving soon.

* * *

The rest of the occupants of the ship had boarded, Commander Shepard and Admiral Shepard stood in the vehicle bay, extending their reluctant farewells.

“Charlie,” Hannah Shepard wrapped her arms around her daughter in a tight embrace. “Are you going to be okay, sweetheart?”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“I’d feel better if Garrus was around.”

 _So would I._ “Yeah well, he’s in the same boat as you, putting out fires and making sure the bitches and shit-stirrers are kept in line.”

“Watch your language.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Her mother squeezed her into another quick embrace and stepped back. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Hmm, I could use a little time alone with my thoughts.”

Sadness crept back into her mother’s twinkling eyes.

“I’d rather you spend time with Dr. Maccoby.”

“Oh god, mom.” Emphasising she was a grown ass woman would be futile, so she bit back any complaints. A doctor had been requested for Shepard; a shrink for her frayed mind. Shepard might have prefered her bedside manner over Dr. Khan’s, except Khan was just an uptight bitch. Maccoby made her confront things she would rather not. “I’m seeing her this afternoon.”

“Good.” Her mother slung a carryon bag over her shoulder. “Make sure you put in a good effort with her.”

The final boarding call echoed through the relatively empty bay.

“Well, good luck.”

“You too hun.” Her mom gave her one last smile before turning around and boarding the _Beryl Crown._ A former cargo freighter, now being used to shuttle top Alliance officials all over Sol and beyond. The docking hatch sealed and the loading tunnel retracted as the engines whined in protest.

Lesan, who had been waiting patiently a few metres away, joined at her side. They stood in silence as the smaller ship made its slow departure.

Shepard twisted the cane in her hands and tried willing away the immediate restlessness. With both Garrus and her mom gone, it only exacerbated the feeling of uselessness.

“I will lose my mind if I stay here much longer.”

Lesan opened her mouth to reply and several expressions struggled to take over her face as she tried to answer. Considering Shepard’s previous condition, this particular idiom was in poor taste. She grinned and elbowed the nurse.

“Breathe, Lesan.”

She responded with a nervous smile. “You humans have—fun ways of speaking.”

“We sure do.” The _Beryl Crown_ was no longer in view. “But I gotta find something productive to do.”

“You’ve done enough. Take time for yourself—time to heal.”

But this wasn’t time for herself. She might not be so restless if loved ones surrounded her on a tropical beach or a cabin in the woods or even her own ship. Here in space on a _literal_ alien ship filled with strangers who kept her at arms length, it was lonely.

* * *

_Later that afternoon_

 

“Hey doc, how are you?” Shepard sat down on the overstuffed couch, resting the cane by her side. Lesan was waiting outside the doors, leaving Shepard to wonder how the other medical professionals felt about her asari shadow. Surely it wasn’t standard procedure, but there was no sense in debating her presence, it would only get the poor girl in trouble with Liara.

“I am good. Thank you Charlie.” Doctor Amelia Maccoby was a tall human woman with a Ghanaian accent and a bottomless well of patience. Her long braids were twisted into an updo that seemed to defy gravity, and it appeared she had traded in her previous stylish outfits for the Alune medical uniform.

She gestured to Shepard’s own hair. “I see you have styled your hair today. How has it been, maintaining a routine?”

Shepard patted her head, her hair was taking its time growing out after most of it had burned away during the events of the final battle, or shaved off while they put her back together again. She wouldn’t say she had styled it–many curls still stood up at awkward angles—but she had washed and dried it properly. The asari nurses assigned to personal care while she had been in a coma were utter shit at hair maintenance.

“Good, I guess. I still think they should allow me to do what I want.”

“And you can, _but_ in between your daily routine.”

Shepard sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The doc smiled with the patience of someone who had not heard that sentiment a million and one times. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“No, I just want to be–well, better. Now.”

“All proper healing requires patience.” She sat down in the adjacent chair, crossing her legs and placing the datapad she used for their sessions on her lap. “Now, since you are eager to start, why don’t we? Tell me how you spent your day.”

 _Did nothing. I’m wasting my time._ But like a good soldier, she gave an appropriate reply. “I–I’ve been thinking about those that aren’t with us.” Feeling suddenly defenceless, she grabbed a nearby pillow and hugged it to her chest. Doctor Maccoby typed a few words while nodding in encouragement.

“Sometimes I think I had it better when I couldn’t remember.” She had meant it as a light aside, but in truth the memory block had been unsettling and she couldn’t bring herself to speak about it with those who were close. Part of her felt ashamed that her mind could forget Garrus.

“When we grieve, the idea to get rid of the things that hurt us is tempting.” She looked up from her notes. “The dissociation you experienced may have blocked those painful memories, but you still experienced the side effects of these memories. Do you remember what we discussed during our last session?”

Shepard nodded, reluctant to say the words out loud. “It confused me when I felt guilty. Angry. Sad.”

“Honestly the whole memory thing rattled me, and I can’t seem to shake it.”

“How has this affected you?”

“Uh—well, mostly—it’s been annoying.”

The doctor nodded and remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“Okay, okay.” Shepard gripped the pillow tighter and made a face. Admitting this felt like weakness. “Anxious, it makes me anxious. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep—and this is so fucking stupid—but my brain keeps telling me I will forget if I fall asleep. I guess I’m scared that I can’t control my brain.”

“This is an understandable fear. Have the breathing techniques helped during these moments of anxiety?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good. There is something else I would like you to try.” She gestured to the cane. “Why are you using the cane?”

Shepard didn’t like these types of questions, she always felt like she got it wrong. But, her body was still in the process of accepting her cloned limbs and stabs of pain would course through the legs from time to time.

“A bit of pain now and then.” Shepard shrugged. “The cane allows me to keep my weight off the hurting one.”

“And do you feel scared that you can’t control your legs like you did in the past?”

“Well I might now.” She cracked a grin, but the doctor continued staring at her in earnest. “No, I guess I feel like I’ll heal if I give it enough time.”

“You must have the same patience here. Our memories are important, they shape who we are—even the ones that hurt us.” She tapped her temple. “Your mind is trying to cope with the trauma you experienced–”

A blaring alarm cut the doctor’s words off as it pierced out of the comm-system. _What the hell?_ The calming tones of a VI followed, “Code Silver, first-floor, first corridor, room 3.” The alarm and the alert began to cycle.

Shepard snatched up the cane and moved for the door. The doctor wasted no time mobilizing and brought up a database of ship wide communications.

“Charlie, we should remain in here.” Doctor Maccoby called out while in the process of contacting someone.

The door opened as she reached it, revealing a wide eyed Isissa Lesan.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Not sure yet. Code silver is for intruder.”

Shepard could not hide a cheerful smile. Something interesting, finally. “Can you get me a gun?”

“No, absolutely not.” The doctor walked towards them. “We should wait until we hear from security-”

“The location, that’s by the vehicle bay, right?”

Lesan nodded. “Just down the hallway a bit.”

The doctor’s attention returned to her comm screen as one of the security guards became visible. Shepard caught Lesan’s eye and nodded to the hallway. They slipped out and calls for them to return followed their exit.

“Lockdown commenced.” The same VI announced before cycling through its previous alarm. “Code Silver, first-floor, first corridor, room 3.”

The holographic indicator of the door’s lock flashed red behind them and they both shared a small smile.

“Might as well go investigate.”

Lesan nodded and pulled a metallic box from one of her uniform’s many pockets. She pressed down on a panel no bigger than a thumbnail and the box folded out into the shape of a pistol that fit in her palm.

“Can that even do any damage?” The asari scowled. “Do you have an extra one?”

“No, come on.”

Her nurse/bodyguard had been pacing herself until now. The distance between them grew while Shepard walked with legs that sent bursts of pain to her brain. Their corridor slanted to the left and the vehicle bay door became visible. A din of noise rolled up the hallway, loud enough that it almost drowned out the alarm.

A crowd had formed around a partially open and unmarked door further down from the vehicle bay.

Lesan motioned for her to stand back, but she pushed forwards, shouldering through the group of people.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Someone tried to grab her arm and she shook them off.

The group stood in morbid fascination around the body of an asari dressed in the colours of the Alune’s security. Her body was half in and out of the doorway, the sliding metal forcing her body in a standing position, while her head lolled at an unnatural angle.

“Commander Shepard, you must stand back—someone get her secured!” The gruff voice of one of the senior security officers. She let others pull her back and in that moment locked eyes with Dr. Sajal Khan. The doctor’s eyes were wide with a wild terror; her skin paled and Shepard knew she was about to faint or throw up.

“Dr. Khan!”

The doctor shook her head and turned to rush down the connecting corridor. She only made it a few steps before relieving the contents of her past meal across the floor.

Armed guards and a shadow broker’s agent pushed Shepard into the nearby security office.

“You know, I believed our friend was crazy for thinking you needed someone to guard you.” Lesan muttered.

“You think this is connected to me?”

“No, _Commander Shepard_ , I think we have someone here to murder the ship’s crew.”

“I saved the goddamn galaxy. Who wants to kill me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know I only set out to write about three chapters of this and I still feel like I'm skipping over so much more angst that could be written.


	6. The Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Commander Shepard begins her long road to recovery, a security guard stationed on the asari medical transport, The Alune, is found dead. Held in the ship's security office, she and Nurse Lesan attempt to piece together what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the end of this chapter I realized I had technically written myself a bottle episode, to use tv speak. Ah well. I am slowly trying to introduce the fact that (unbelievably) there are people who are angry with Shep's decisions, despite everything she has done. There is a point to all this! :)

The vid portrayed a sweeping panorama of London, silent and destroyed in unflinching detail. Buildings lay in ruin, the ground covered with jagged concrete and sheared metal. Underneath the rubble, a keen eye might distinguish the hull of a burnt-out ship here or the twisted remains of a skycar there. Forgotten and lost remains of a once bustling cityscape pushed out of the debris like a macabre garden. No music accompanied the recording, the director of this piece let the viewer digest the images in uncomfortable silence until the abrasive start of a droning narration.

               “London, shortly after the attack from the enemy called ‘Reaper’. Officially this enemy was defeated--humanity victorious--but that comes to no comfort for those left injured, left homeless or those killed by collateral damage.” The vid camera moved away from the city’s horizon and zoomed into a nearby child’s bed bisected by a metal beam, plushies of Blasto and Bubin ripped open and partially charred. “The Alliance refuses to confirm or deny whether Commander Charlotte Shepard survived the final assault, but by all accounts, she was at the heart of the attack against these unknowable beings.”

Shepard rubbed her eyes, tiredness taking over as soon as the vid began playing. She would much rather become involved with the apparent murder that had occurred. Outside the doors of the Security Office, the beginnings of an investigation took place. Ship security refused to call it murder, but it was clear someone had snapped the asari’s neck, and she doubted the door did the deed. As tempting as it would be to become involved, Shepard and Lesan took advantage of the area they were being _secured_ in. Under her nurse’s directions, Shepard was catching up on nearly a year of public perception; a small but loud group of humans despised the influence of one Commander Shepard with a fervent zeal and were doing their damnedest to counteract the sway she had over the public. Not persuaded that the dead asari had anything to do with her, she was still willing to become educated on who might want her dead. No doctor in here to halt her curiosity.

Next to her, Lesan tried tracking the happenings outside the door, convinced that the asari’s murder to be a clear sign of imminent danger for her charge, but at the sound of the newsbyte, she looked at the screen Shepard faced.

               “This guy sounds official, but he’s full of – full of --”

Shepard smiled despite the current mood. “Shit?”

She nodded. “He says he reports the ‘bare facts’ for the common person, but he only interviews people who support his ideas.” Lesan let her professional façade drop with an annoyance that could not be contained. She began an extranet search on her omni-tool. “ _Someone_ leaked a clip after this originally debuted. He cut it out of the ‘cast for obvious reasons.”

The two security guards who shuffled them into this room now stood guard at the door, but even they turned their helmeted heads in interest. A thumbnail image popped up on the tool’s screen and it delivered the emotional equivalent of a gut punch.

               “Oh, James.” She breathed. Her hand reached out and hovered over the image, glowing with a familiar orange tint. He was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed while a salarian appeared to work on one of his prosthetic legs.

The vid playback began in a sterile hallway and the camera jostled over the interviewer’s shoulder while they barged into the hospital room.

               “Lieutenant James Vega, may we have a word?” A human dressed well above the means of anyone during wartime recovery held a recording omni-tool towards Vega.

He looked up at them skeptically. “I guess, you’ve already busted in here.” The salarian looked much more perturbed.

               “You were part of a group instrumental during the final assault in London.”

               “Heh, I was instrumental for the whole damn war.” Shepard shared a smile with her friend, her brother. The salarian coughed politely.

               “Can you speak to the former Commander Shepard’s motives during that time?”

               “What?” Anyone who knew James, also knew his current expression and body language preluded a brawl. He was as laid back as a soldier could be, didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to throw down when he felt they disrespected his core values.

               “The Alliance appears to have heavily relied on the former commander when making decisions regarding the war against the Reapers. She was a person with questionable alliances-”

               “Hey.” James stood while the salarian unsuccessfully tried to keep him from moving. “What are you trying to say?”

               “The former commander –”

               “ _The Commander._ ”

               “-seemed to favour non-humans over her own kind-”

Anger transformed James’ expression. “Son of a bitch.” A harried Alliance MP appeared in view of the camera, trying to escort the interviewer out of the room. The vid-camera lingered, still picking up various curses that Shepard’s ratchet translator interpreted on a delay. “Vete a la  _chingada!”_ They geared her temporary translator towards alien languages, light on human languages.

               “They cut that from the original ‘cast. Apparently ambushing a war-vet in a hospital was a line too far, even for this program.”             

In the past, the journalist’s invasive questioning would have her reacting much like James, but she watched it dispassionate. The dependable spark of righteous anger that ignited much of her past thoughts and actions remained faded and dull.

“You know, I remember him – vaguely.” Some sort of current affairs and documentary program. A faint memory surfaced of showering while this voice played in the background; being forced to listen to his prattling until Garrus turned the thing off. It had been an odd ball theory about how nothing in her military history explained why she saved the Destiny Ascension. “Marshall Harper, I believe. He’s got a hard-on for anything related to the Normandy.”  

Lesan adopted a strangled expression but didn’t comment. 

“He sounds so matter of fact and reliable, I almost believe I hate humans.”   

“Li - uh, my boss and I have a theory he’s a sophisticated VI and Terra Firma members are behind the programming.”

There was sense to that notion. Make the perfect, focus-tested personality that could be edited on the whims of public opinion. The crazy ideas he often implied as fact, were not presented by someone who could manage on an even keel. Logical and methodical were not descriptors often associated with his kind of journalism. A VI on the other hand, it could be programmed to say whatever dumb shit a person wanted without pesky, undesirable emotions getting in the way.

Lesan closed out the vid. “What’s his problem with the Normandy?”

Shepard shrugged. “Probably what it represented.”

The SSV Normandy was lauded as a triumph of turian and human design. The unofficial context of its mission to bolster inter-species cooperation. Yet she had never been a part of a mission that went fubar so quickly.  A goddamn turian spectre on board. AND HE DIED. It could have become an enduring symbol for the impossibility of unity, and this thought became a foundation under all her decisions defeating Sovereign.  

She sighed and skipped through the vid on the screen. “As terrible as he is, I can’t see him – or whoever is programming him - trying to kill me.”

               “No, but his reports are doing a good job at radicalizing the minority who believe you have an anti-human agenda.”

               “Cerberus?”

               “Ex-Cerberus now. Unfortunately, their ideology didn’t fade when the organization fell apart.”

Marshall Harper’s rhetoric continued droning out of Shepard’s console. Her fingers hovered over the pause function as the recordings of war transitioned into a montage of her life. Many of the pictures and vids were candid, taken by a skulking photog from a distance.

               “To understand her motivations, we will begin with a review of her time on the Normandy after Admiral Anderson assigned her as commanding officer. Also discussed will be the legitimacy of including non-humans on an Alliance ship.” Someone had chosen a still frame of her and Garrus to punctuate his words.

               “I haven’t seen this one yet.” She paused the playback.

               “What could you two _possibly_ be doing?”

The image captured Garrus lifting her up so she could grab onto a higher ledge of the Presidium, his hands were holding on to her in a manner that might be considered risqué. Nothing indecent, but it made for an entertaining accompaniment to the narration.

               “This could’ve been one of a few times. Obviously, we’re climbing up to the balcony above. I think we saw someone we knew.”

               “How many times did you two climb up the walls of the Presidium?” She shook her head and sat back in her chair. “Your boyfriend chose a terrible time to leave, by the way.”

               “Well, I’ll always agree to that, but why?”

               “He’s former C-Sec. He investigated crimes for a living before _you_ came into his life.”

               “Well fuck me, I didn’t realize being a Spectre rated lower than an ex C-Sec officer.”

Lesan rolled her eyes and turned back to her station; a headshot of the recently deceased security guard filling the holo-screen. The many departed weighed deeply on Shepard’s mind and she waited for the sorry soul beyond their door to be added to that number. Her grief appeared to have reached its limit, she wasn’t sad, she wasn’t angry. Not yet.

A click and the low buzz of an active comm line sounded from their guards. A few seconds passed until one of them stood forwards.

               “Commander. Nurse Lesan. We are being asked to assist with the investigation, we will be just outside the doors.”

Shepard nodded and gave a half-assed salute. “I’m sure we’ll survive.”

She watched them leave and then smacked Lesan’s arm. “Is this room secure?”

She typed commands into her omni-tool’s interface. “It is now, although it won’t be long before the ship’s system recognizes what I’ve done and resets.”

There were only a couple of questions she wanted answered, but an instinct deep inside recoiled against appearing curious. If the last three years were anything, they were evidence against a meddlesome life. Dr. Khan’s insistence on her disconnection made her want to scratch her eyes out; normally she needed to read every message, see all the intel, follow every lead.

              “I have two quick questions, Dr. Sajal Khan – is she squeamish?”

Lesan narrowed her eyes, trying to track Shepard’s train of thought. “No … she helped put you back together. Lot’s of blood and guts.”

               “So, not a person to blanch at the sight of a dead body.”

               “No, she’s been ass-deep in it, as you humans say.”

 _Interesting_. In that case, vomiting at the sight of a dead body might be unusual behaviour.

               “Second, where is Liara and is she coming here soon?”

“She’s making her way here with James. I haven’t received an update on why she is late.”

“James?”

“His cloned legs are ready for transplant. She offered to transport him here for the surgery.”

The idea of James being confined to an asari ship made her smile, but she continued with her interrogation.

“I lied, two more questions, what combat training do you have?”

Again, Lesan looked at her carefully, trying to figure out her angle.

“I’m no huntress, but I have biotic abilities. I am just a nurse that Liara trusts.”

“Good to know. Also, do we have access to the ship’s security recordings?”

“Commander, you will need to tell me what you want before --”

“Okay, okay.” She dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think the poor asari out there has anything to do with me, but there’s still a murderer on board.”

Lesan consulted whatever data was streaming across the screen formed on her omni-tool. “As one of the people directly responsible for your healthcare, I can’t--”

“Listen, I -  I need a distraction.” She opted for honesty.

“That is not a healthy attitude.” The asari’s nose twitched and lips pursed, contemplating the position she found herself in. Shepard knew the appropriate emotion should be guilt or even sympathy at forcing a person to do a thing they were uncomfortable with, but she felt nothing.

“We are being monitored in 3, 2, 1 …"

At the end of the countdown the ever-present buzz of technology dimmed briefly before returning to its regular state. As an asari medical ship, the Alune would only accept previously approved visitors. They were just as likely to gun down the uninvited than politely turn them away. Which meant that the murderer might be someone assigned to the ship. They could be standing in plain sight. _Traitors._

If she was the target – the obvious suspects would be Lesan, Dr Maccoby, or Dr Khan. They each dealt with her privately and were close enough to do the deed, but they are trusted members of the ship. Why would they need to kill a guard to get to her?

“I want to see the ship recordings. At least for the area around the docking bay and security office.”

The nurse glared. “Well, I don’t have authorization-”

Shepard turned back to her console and brought up the Alune’s Security login screen. “Time to check if my Spectre authorization is still valid.”

“No don’t--” She started, but fell silent as the codes were successful. Lesan put up a good front of propriety, but was too curious to back away from this opportunity. She watched Shepard navigate to the security camera recordings and reached over to select the current footage for the hallway outside the door. They were wrapping up the investigation, or at least, moving it elsewhere.

“We won’t have time to look through all of those,” Her pale violet brow knitted with worry, not keen on having to explain how they gained access to these folders.

“Our friend has a VI to look through all of these quickly.” When Lesan didn’t object, Shepard transferred as many of the files as she could into a message with the subject line, Poirot. Among the many odd things aliens tend to latch on to from human history, for some unknowable reason the writings of an old Earth author had become something of a fad in asari circles. Liara had been crestfallen when Shepard had no knowledge of Agatha Christie, Poirot, or whatever Murder on the Orient Express was. It didn’t stop her from chatting at length on the subject. Hopefully the subject line would be enough to clue Liara in on what she needed to do.

The message sent and they logged out of the console just as the door behind them opened. One of the previous security guards stepped in and motioned for them.

“Commander Shepard, we will escort you to your room.”

“I don’t think so.”

The guard stepped back, helmet hiding their expression. They shrugged at their comrade and turned back to where she was sitting.

“Er - we need to secure the ship, so -”

“And you can do that when you tell me what the fuck just happened out there.”

The two guards stared at each other before leaving without a word.

“Think they’ll come back?”

Lesan’s retort was cut off as her omni-tool blinked. “Interesting.” She arched her brow. “Your boyfriend.”

Pulling up the comm, Garrus’ face appeared in the orange tinted screen. He spoke before either of them offered a greeting. “Lesan, is there a reason Shepard’s Spectre codes are being used on the Alune?”

               “Hey, you guys know each other?” Shepard squeezed in close to the asari; moving in view of the tool’s recording feature. “Aw, are your keeping tabs on me?” She followed up with the second question without waiting for a reply.

               “Of course, always.” Turians couldn’t quite smile, but his eyes beamed with happiness and his mandibles relaxed. “Spirits, it’s good seeing you.”

A lump formed in her throat and her eyes welled. _Did I say you could cry, soldier?_ Again, her goddamn body betrayed her.

“Same, I miss you.” Her emotional state was a little raw and her adrenaline was riding a little high from recent events. They each possessed influence and obligations separate from the other, their years together had been marked with their worlds often pulling them in different directions. When the Hierarchy requested his presence, she hadn’t given it a second thought. She practically forced him to leave--convinced she would be fine with his absence. And she had been, until now. Speaking with him triggered smothered emotions. “I love you. I --”

Lesan cleared her throat. “Goddess, you two have only been apart three and a half days.”

Shepard wanted to ask him to return, but pride bit her tongue.

               “Right. To answer your questions; yes, I’m keeping tabs on you, and yes, I know Isissa well,” she interpreted his knowing expression and tone as _, I know Isissa is Liara’s agent aboard the Alune._ “A Council agent interrupted my meeting with Primarch Victus asking me the same question. And I can’t think of a damn reason why that code would be used.”

               “Murder.”

               “What?!” The sound of movement could be discerned as the image transitioned to an obscured Garrus as he rushed from wherever he had been standing.

Lesan held out her left arm in an effort to push her away.

“Yes, a member of the Alune’s security. They were killed right outside of the security office and there apparently isn’t a single witness.” The exasperation clear in her voice.

“There’s been no word of trouble from the ship. Does Liara know?” His voice sounded far away.

“Probably.” Shepard smacked Lesan’s arm away. “It just happened, they’re scrambling to get on top of this. We know nothing. Yet.”

He came to a stop so he could look into the vid recorder on his omni-tool. “Shepard. Please, don’t -”

She glared. It was an expression that warned him not to tell her what to do and with it a deep weariness passed across his face. 

“Shepard, listen to me. I know I can’t stop you from looking into this, but please, for my sake, keep Lesan by your side at all time.”

She exhaled and closed her eyes, forcing patience. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I could get rid of her if I tried.”

“Thank you. Stay safe if you can, I should be there within the hour.”

“Love you.” 

His expression echoed the sentiment behind her words. They stared at each other silently, unsure of how to say goodbye, made all the more uncomfortable with Lesan being a forced third wheel. To her credit, she remained silent and patient, allowing them to have their moment. 

"I should go." His voice was so soft she almost didn't hear, but the absurdity of his chosen farewell made her gasp with laughter, clutching Lesan as she did. Satisfied with her reaction, he nodded and the connection ended.

Lesan dropped her arms to her side and shook her head. "You two are so fucking weird."


	7. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An asari, a human, and a drell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Seasons greetings!  
> This chapter is from Liara's POV!  
> I have had an insanely busy month and a half which means the originally planned next chapter probably won't be out until beginning to mid January. I did have a little bit of free time leading up to Christmas so I cleaned up a little snippet I had written about Liara while in the background of this story. Also I had a dream last month that Liara, Feron, Javik and some random asari were involved in a polyamorous relationship and I woke up briefly thinking that was cannon.

“Liara?”

Her body shifted towards Feron, but her eyes remained on the never-ending feeds of data scrolling across her console.

“Yes?” She murmured, her attention elsewhere.

The drell rolled out of the room’s large central bed and walked to her side.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“I - meditated -” She said half-heartedly.

“Liar.” 

She waved her hand dismissively, he caught it and pressed a gentle kiss against her fingers. “But it is morning, we should get ready.”

With that, Liara turned to face him. “I have never known you to be so eager about chauffeuring.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He let go of her hand and walked to the closet.

“Eager to see Isissa?”

“I’m worried.” He spoke over his shoulder. “I understand that she is best suited for the job.”

“But?”

He shrugged and pulled out clean clothes. “But Shepard has countless people willing to die for her, if you think her life is in danger – why not them?”

Liara sighed. She liked to think she was being cautious, perhaps she was simply paranoid.

“There is too much radicalization within “human first” organizations for me to feel comfortable leaving Shepard without an extra layer of security. Everyone else is high profile, they would become targets as well.” 

Truthfully, if someone was trying to take advantage of Shepard’s weakened state, striking while she was in a medical facility would be the easiest way to do so. It was part of the reason she was on the Alune. Besides offering the very best in medical technology and care, it was infinitely easier to vet all those on board the Alune than it would be for a human hospital. And in her state of being perpetually occupied it was impossible to think she could monitor every situation. An entire galaxy demanded her attention and most in her networks had become casualties of war. Thankfully the VI’s seemed to have been spared in the purge.

“If Isissa can stay in the background, unseen, it could draw whoever might be lurking into the light.”

“Are you turning the saviour of the galaxy into bait?”

“Only to help her.” Smiling, she closed the project she was working on. “We will see Isissa soon, in the meantime, I will go check on our guest.”

Feron grunted and continued getting ready. He was not a fan of some of her acquaintances and friends, James Vega being one of those. Too brash and too human was the complaint.

The door slid shut behind her as she left their bedroom. James was already awake and cooking in the kitchen, with Glyph hovering over his shoulder.

“Hey doc.” He called out. “Want anything?”

She smiled and stopped at the doorway, arms folded across her chest. “I think I have learned my lesson when it comes to your cooking.”

“Too spicy for you?”

“I think there is a level of grease that my body does not agree with.”

“Ha. No such thing as too much grease.” He flipped over whatever he was frying. His expression shifted and became one of earnest good cheer. “You know, to be honest – I'm probably looking forwards to seeing Shep more than getting my legs.”

Liara understood. Whether or not Charlie Shepard wanted it, she had a presence that made people feel different about themselves. That they could do the impossible. Thank the goddess the woman was generally unaware of this or couldn’t be bothered to abuse this ability. The loyalty she inspired in others sometimes bordered on insanity.

Feron exited the bedroom, now dressed and walked towards them. “I’ll go prep everything for us to leave.” He nodded to James and planted a quick kiss on her temple. She touched the side of his face and they shared a smile before he turned to leave. James kept silent and waited for Feron to leave before speaking.

“You know – not my business – but I thought you were with that asari chick. Sis – Sissy or something.”

Liara sighed. “Isissa. And did you say asari chick?”

“Yes. He did.” Glyph zoomed over to her and then back to James. “Isissa, Feron, and Liara are together.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Oh. Nice.”

That info drone would get a reprogramming if it was not careful. Still, any annoyance she might have felt burned away with the friendship she shared with James. Besides his response was so humourously human, and it was her experience that despite their cultural and technological advances, many humans still allowed archaic traditions to shape their ideas of romantic relationships. Many asari dismissed human inhibition as a cultural peculiarity.

Interrupting her thoughts, the chime for her personal message account sounded from the bedroom.

“One moment.”

He nodded. “Sure thing.”

Pulling up her inbox, another ghost of the war greeted her, a message originating from Shepard’s Spectre credentials. The message had only one word – Poirot – along with dozens of vid files. There was a brief fanciful moment where Liara wondered if Shepard was at long last getting into Agatha Christie. However, the combination of the Spectre communication system and the word Poirot could only mean one thing. Something less than favourable was happening on the Alune. Something that neither Shepard or Isissa felt comfortable relaying through regular channels.

“Glyph, come here please.” The info drone floated through the door, it had added a human chef hat to its avatar.

“Yes, Shadow Broker?”

She cringed at its willingness to break her identity, even now. “I need you to run the Watcher Suite on these vids. Give me the results as soon as you are done.”

“Right away!”

Liara activated her omni tool and called Feron.

“You miss me already?”

“Be prepared. If I’m correct there has been a murder on board the Alune.”

Feron cursed the gods and goddesses of the drell pantheon. “Shepard?”

“It would seem our people are still alive.”

“Do you want me to come back?”

Liara paused for a moment, briefly indecisive. “No, we need the ship ready to go as soon as possible.”

“Will do.”

She disconnected the line and closed her eyes. There were too many fires to extinguish. Taking a moment to collect herself, she inhaled a stabilizing breath and exited the room.

“James, I’m afraid they might delay your surgery.”

 Her human houseguest had moved from the kitchen and was leaning against the wall outside her room.

“I heard what you said. I’m in.”

“James-”

“No, if Shep’s in trouble, fuck that. The Reapers took my legs, not my ability to fight.”

She stared at him dispassionately and knew she had the power to refuse him. She also had enough experience dealing with people who had been soldiers for too long. Denying him this fight would do no one any favours.

“You’re right, of course.” She walked over to a case that they had shoved against her bedroom wall. Taking a moment, she unlocked it and removed the lid. “Get ready then, and I think you will find that Feron has amassed a suitable supply.”

His eyes lit up like a child in a sweet store and he inspected the weapon cache with a little too much glee. He eventually picked up a M-96 Mattock, admiring his choice as he stepped out of her room.

“Not bad doc. This will do nicely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my universe the asari have totally done a critically acclaimed all asari reboot of Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot adventures. Murder on the Orient Express is now Murder on the Athena Express.


	8. The Benefit of Having Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard and friends continue the feel the effects of the murder aboard the Alune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the slow creep towards the end of this little fanfic experiment.

Shepard had not left the Alune’s security office; the ship was still under lockdown after the discovery of a dead guard. A lockdown on the Alune was no small thing. Because of its nature as a mobile hospital, the potential of outbreaks and quarantines were an everpresent concern. Being one of the asari’s most advanced medical ships, it was more martial than others with their precautionary measures. During a lockdown, they even took the escape pods offline. Safety measures that contained outbreaks, incidentally also good for trapping murderers. Unless of course the murderer was a Spectre. Statistically that didn’t seem possible. How many rogue Spectres could a person come across in their lifetime?

With her newly re-discovered and active ID, she had clearance to evade the lockdown and enough guile to roam the ship without obstacle, but she wanted to know what was happening on the other side of these walls. There was a sense that beyond grief, many were embarrassed that such a thing happened on their watch. They resolved that embarrassment by ignoring her questions.

The posted guards eventually brought their superior, an asari huntress who remained resolute in her decision to not answer a goddamn thing.

Shepard’s mind was a curious place, her own eyes saw the snapped neck of the dead asari, but at the same time she could feel the Alune’s bubble of safety causing a strange sort of naiveté. Murder and nefarious plotting felt as if it died on Earth with her old body. She didn’t want to believe someone murdered a security guard. She didn’t want to believe it had anything to do with her.

 _It wasn’t fair._ The Primitives won, the Reapers were dead. Civilization was no longer held to the psychotic whims of a machine, why couldn’t her job be over?

Deep in her own thoughts, it took a few seconds of the new message chime to wrest her from her spiraling mind. 

Only a couple hours had passed since Shepard transferred the Alune’s security footage. The incoming message dashed any hope that this was a run of the mill murder; Liara’s response was brief and came without fanfare. Picking up the datapad, she stared at the words that made up the whole of Liara’s reply.

 

_The Alune is compromised._

 

Closing and reopening the message, the words remained. _Well, shit._ A cold knot formed in her gut. _Grab a weapon._ She scanned the room. A weapon locker rested against the far wall in plain view of the others. No, her mind couldn’t be trusted yet. If she could forget years of her life, surely she could imagine a threat. Apparently cursed to relive the worst moments of her life; still healing from an explosive planetfall - she was not eager to rush into things.

Sliding the pilfered datapad into the loose folds of the medical gown, she never could have too many devices. Old habits die hard. Shepard hopped up from her chair and paced, her usual stride halted by stiff legs. The wise thing would be to verify the threat with the Shadow Broker’s agent. However, said agent was occupied.  After being held in the Alune’s security office for hours, the guards finally brought forth their superior. Lesan chatted with the scowling, monosyllabic asari. They would pry no answers out of this one, but she wouldn’t stop the nurse from trying.

 _I need a weapon_. Her pace slowed as she neared the weapon locker. _Locked_. Next to it, unsecured, was a stack of packaged omni-tool devices. With as much subtlety as her inelegant soldier form could allow, she reached for one of the packages.

“Commander Shepard?”

Turning while also sliding the package into her robes, she smiled. “Yes?”

The grumpy asari narrowed her eyes and focused on Shepard’s sneaking form. “Nurse Lesan will escort you back to your room.”

“Of course.” The officer stepped into the room, waiting for them to exit. Shepard made a show of limping by with her cane.

Once out of earshot, Lesan faced her in fear. “Who do we trust?” She whispered.

Shepard inhaled. “You got the message?”

The nurse nodded. So, the threat was real. Feeling the worry radiate off her new asari comrade was a little concerning. Lesan seemed a competent sort, but Shepard knew how damaged the Shadow Broker’s intelligence infrastructure was by the end of the war. She never professed to be a practiced agent; in fact, she had stressed multiple times that her chief qualification included being a person Liara trusted.

“For now, we know nothing, we may have to hold out until backup arrives.”  Here, that meant Garrus, Liara, and possibly James. The voice leaving her lips sounded confident, but Shepard felt the incredible pressure of the unknown pushing in. She had no true control, not even of her own body. This was no longer a safe place. It was a terrible thing, being vulnerable. Sighing, she motioned to keep moving. Ending the Reaper threat was supposed to change things, but someone had murdered the asari – didn’t even know her damn name. Regular bad shit still happened.

“Do you have quarters on board?”

Lesan nodded.

“Let’s go there.” Instinct told her to avoid her own room - however, depending on _how_ compromised the ship was, it might not matter where they went. They picked up their speed, the previous lockdown leaving the corridors empty.

“In here.” They entered a room that had the aesthetic of a prison cell. Fold out bunks secured to the wall and a spartan desk with a chair shoved into the only empty space.

Shepard nodded and sat down at the desk, divesting her robes of the things she had stolen. A packaged omni-tool, a datapad, a thermal clip, an empty tool belt, and a toy model of the Alune with a handy silver chain.

“Goddess.” Lesan looked down at the plunder. She pulled up the model by its thin chain and then set it down to inspect the thermal clip. “I clocked the datapad and the omni-tool. But not these.”

Shepard tore into the packaging and pulled out a pair of gloves. A temporary accessory that contained the device needed to activate the omni-tool and the ability to use the haptic interface. Before her injuries she used implants under the skin, but they, like many other things, burned away during the final explosion. 

“You haven’t had your treatments.”

“That’s fine.”

Her nurse didn’t care for the sentiment but remained quiet. Liara’s message being as sparse as it was, meant that everyone should be treated with suspicion, including prescribing doctors.

“Did Liara send you additional info?”

“Not much.” She unhooked a bunk and lowered it to where she could sit comfortably. “I received this message while speaking with Officer Limi.”

 

_The Alune is compromised. Remain by Shepard’s side. Need to figure way on board._

 

The woefully short message hovered above Lesan’s arm. Shepard frowned. She was hoping for something more.

An incoming message came through on the omni-tool as Shepard began the process of installing and activating her own. Lesan motioned for her to remain silent and answered the call.

“Isissa, do you know where Commander Shepard is? She’s not in her quarters.” Dr. Sajal Khan’s face materialized above the asari’s arm.

“Oh, yes.” Lesan edged towards the other side of the room. “They held us up at security. How are you? Did you know Nomi well?”

She made a face that suggested she had no idea where she was going with this conversation. Shepard gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Nomi?” Dr Khan questioned.

“Yeah, the security officer found-”

“Nomi, yes. I know h—knew her as Officer Diala.”

“You seemed upset-”

“Yes, yes—it was a terrible sight.” She interrupted a second time. “Would you bring Shepard to my office? I believe she will be able to bypass the lockdown.”

Lesan’s kind smile froze and she nodded slowly. “Not her quarters?”

“No, I need to discuss certain matters with her.”

“Commander Shepard has had a long day, I believe she should rest -”

“You do not tell _me_ what is right for her.” Indignation faded and panic crept into the doctor’s voice. “I – just - need to speak with her, it is important.” 

Lesan looked to Shepard for guidance and she nodded in affirmation. “My apologies, we’ll be there right away.”

The line disconnected.

“Trap?”

“Probably.”

The young asari sat back down on the bunk with a heavy sigh. “I wish Liara was here. Or Feron. This is beyond what I signed up for, how – what am I supposed to do?”

Shepard stood and activated the blade from the now functioning omni-tool, causing Lesan to jump. “Nice.” Its soft orange glow illuminated a wicked grin that pulled at the edges of the commander’s lips. She snapped the blade off, and it clattered to the ground.

“You could start with not mentioning them by name while on discreet missions.” Shepard sat next to her temporary partner and held out her hands. “My hands are still shaking. Regardless of therapy and treatments. It drives me up the fucking wall. Probably can’t shoot anything, but I know I can punch things.”

Even with the brace provided by the omni-tool’s gloves, a tremor still passed through them. Lesan pulled out the tiny gun from her apron and set it in her lap.

Shepard patted her on the shoulder. “You shoot, I’ll punch.”

“This is such a bad idea.” She shook her head and put the gun back in the apron pocket. “And what about Nomi’s murder?”

The asari’s murder did not affect her in the same way the sacrifices of EDI, of Anderson, of Thane, Mordin, Kaiden, and Atlee did, but it was still a terrible loss. She was certain it connected to whatever conspiracy Liara uncovered.

“I think someone fucked up. Maybe Nomi walked in on something someone didn’t want her to see and they killed her for it. Which means whoever is behind this is panicking and about to make some stupid decisions.”

“You hope.”

“Hey, it’s experience talking. We gotta act now and take advantage of their panic.”

Lesan took in several deep breaths. “And Dr. Khan?”

“I don’t know. She knows something,” Shepard had a gut feeling that Khan could clear up this mystery. She may have put Shepard back together again, but it wouldn’t be the first time she woke up from a coma in a strange place thanks to some shifty bitch. “And tell Liara what we’re doing. I assume your message system is more protected than mine.”

“At this point I doubt it matters.” But Lesan was already typing and walking, their rendezvous to her room short-lived. There was an acute sense of déjà vu surrounding this entire affair. Regardless of whether these assholes targeted the Alune because of her, all of this felt vaguely familiar, and not in a comforting way. If this mystery ended with a deceitful pro-human moneybag proposing a mission of galactic importance, she would save everyone the trouble and launch herself into space. Someone else could take up the goddamn torch.

Cinching the borrowed tool belt tight around her hospital gown, she remained sitting while her new compatriot waited for the door.

This turned out to be a mistake.

The message to Liara firmly held Lesan’s attention and as the previously locked doors opened, neither of the women were prepared when two armored hands reached in and grabbed hold of her. Within the space of a few seconds someone pulled her through the doorway and out of view. Shepard scrambled to her feet. She was out of shape and out of practice. _Goddamn_ _embarrassing_.

Sliding into the doorframe armed with a cane and a stolen omni-tool, the scene seemed to slow as she examined the chaos ahead. Her body might not be reliable, but it would seem certain instincts remained. Three armored unknowns were visible, one had a pistol – a Talon - in hand, another had Lesan in their arms and for a surprise, the third had Dr. Maccoby at gunpoint. Also armed with a Talon. Her caretakers and healthcare personnel, all except Sajal Khan. Dr. Maccoby looked pissed but remained stationary. Lesan struggled against her captor. A Talon might mean ex-Cerberus. It might also mean a bunch of chuckle-fucks who raided a Cerberus armory sometime after the Reaper’s defeat.

 “Commander Shepard-” They didn’t finish their sentence. They had superior firepower. As far as she could tell there were two things that would balance this skirmish. _Distraction. Fight dirty._ She leaned forwards and rushed the nearest combatant. With no time for delicate and precise strikes, her shoulder and arm dug into Lesan’s gut, driving both her and the enemy back into the bastard holding a gun on her psychiatrist. Unable to keep her balance she stumbled over the tangle of bodies, wincing as a shot missed her head by a hairbreadth. Behind her Dr. Maccoby cried out in pain and the smell of burning flesh mixed with the burning metallic smell of a gunshot. The others and their armored points dug deep into her skin and she gritted her teeth in pain. Skin bruised, but not broken; she prevented herself from being cut open.

Only a couple brief seconds passed but the armored attackers were already shaking off the surprise. Everyone behind her climbed to their feet.

A year ago, she trusted the strength of her arms to launch the metal cane like a javelin, but these new arms barely had muscle definition. Instead she pushed herself across the floor and jammed the walking aid up into the crotch of the still standing figure. It made a satisfying crack, but the armor softened the blow. Still, the figure hunched over, and she took the advantage, grabbing the neck of their armor, leveraging her weight to flip them ass over tea kettle. They both landed hard, side by side, each scrambling to seize the upper hand. The assailant let loose a stream of curses and rushed to aim his weapon. Beyond them, the doc was alive and suffering a shoulder wound. Lesan was already on her feet, holding her aim on the other slow-moving armored figures - they were only lightly armored, but it was enough to be outmaneuvered by a gun wielding nurse.

“Drop your weapons. Get on your knees!”

They did not obey.

“Lesan we only need one for questioning!” The asari blinked and nodded. The fallen one whipped his head around, gauging the threat to his comrades, giving Shepard the opportunity she needed. Activating the omni-blade, Shepard drove it into the neck of the figure, his armor not strong enough to deflect. His body relaxed and the Talon fell out of his grip. She rushed towards the pistol, trading her cane for the more powerful weapon. In a move that looked incredibly painful, especially considering the fresh wound, Dr. Maccoby reached up to her captor and hooked her arm around their neck, prying at the clasps that secured their helmet.

Shepard fired at the combatant nearest Lesan and clipped their elbow. _Damn it._ The target _had_ been center mass.

The doc received several jabbing elbows to the gut for her troubles. She stumbled and her opponent used the momentum to crush her against the corridor wall. She managed to turn their helmet askew before being knocked back and falling to the floor.

With Dr. Maccoby and Lesan in close quarters, Shepard didn’t trust her shooting skills. Trying to activate the omni-blade again resulted in a faint alarm.

“For fucks sake.” She seethed, anger burning the sides of her neck and face. Not enough omni-gel to form a new blade. _Of-fucking-course_. What goddamn security manufacturer was sending these out empty?

Quickly reexamining the skirmish, the one with the clipped elbow was still clutching their injury, Shepard decided to protect the psychiatrist. There was no guarantee she could fight. Lesan would have to deal with the other one.

Launching herself towards the remaining enemy was not as successful as the first attempt. She was grabbed by the front of her robes and driven into the wall. Pain shot through her side and her head knocked hard against the metal surface. The impact rattled her down to her teeth. Ears rang. This body was so fucking weak. If she survived this, her new project would be muscle training. A year of lying in a hospital bed did her no favours. Shouting incoherent curses, she struck out at their arms until the grip weakened. Using her weight, she shoved the assailant backwards, desperately trying to force them off balance. Again, her attack was ineffective, but they did something quite unexpected. They stood down. Slowly raising their arms in defeat, they dropped to their knees.

Shepard tried raising her stolen pistol, but adrenaline got the best of her. The shaking in her hands became unmanageable.

“Shepard.” A new voice. A familiar voice. A familiar hand on her shoulder. Sparing a quick glance to their owner, she watched as her best friend and partner stepped to her side, a rifle casually resting against his shoulder. Garrus surveyed the mess. “I leave you alone for a couple of days.”

Like a grounding rod, his presence seemed to absorb the angry panic from her body. Instinct and training demanded she remain professional, but her threshold for decorum died a Reaper or two ago. Barking out a surprised laugh, she wrapped her arms around him, relieved but also ridiculously happy to have him by her side. Their relationship produced many fully armored awkward side hugs, to which this was no exception. He put an arm around her shoulders while keeping an eye on the still living attacker.

“I had this.” A lopsided smile betrayed her angry words.

“I know.”

“How did you get on board?”

“I’m very charming.”

“Fuck off.” With her face pressed against his side, it muffled the words and she felt him chuckle under his breath.

He quickly squeezed her shoulder and she let go but grinned like a fool. Unfortunately, not much time for emotional reunions, survival was the greater concern.

“You, what’s your name?” Garrus scanned the human with his omni-tool.

A deepening scowl was the only response. Shepard peeked at the results of the scan. With multiple pockets and tech installed into his armor, the human would be too much of a liability to take.

“We’ll have to strip him.” They said simultaneously.

Shepard gestured for him to go ahead. To their right Lesan stood wide-eyed, but relatively unharmed. Dr Maccoby appeared to have fainted, but her chest was rising and falling with each breath. The attacker with the clipped elbow lay face down on the floor, a gunshot wound smoking from the center of their helmet. _Nice shot._

“We also need to find Dr. Khan and bring her along. But first,” One of them had to do it. She stepped forwards and pried the helmet the rest of the way off the still living attacker. They were no one. At least no one she recognized. An angry human face, white skin, white blond hair, and green eyes. “Care to introduce yourself?”

“You will pay -” He started. Shepard punched him hard enough in the face that his nose bled.

“I’ve already paid, dipshit. The universe owes me now.”

She looked at Garrus, incredulous. He shrugged. “They never learn.”

An alarm, similar to the last one, rang throughout the ship. This time there was no accompanying message.

“Liara?”

“Maybe.”

Garrus was already investigating the corpses. Shepard turned to Lesan. “Check the doc, see if you can wake her up.”

A far-off explosion resounded from the other side of the ship. The three of them froze, waiting for aftershocks or secondary explosions. Silence. Nothing reached their ears.

“Garrus you should go ahead, see if there’s trouble; we’ll just slow things down.” Adrenaline was fading and she felt the pain and stiffness blossom out from where the blows had landed. Regardless of being attacked, the sudden bursts of movement left her limbs and muscles burning. Her body wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Lesan administered a portion of medigel to the doc and her eyelids fluttered, slowly returning to consciousness. Garrus didn’t seem to find anything noteworthy on the corpses and returned to Shepard’s side.  

“You should go.”

This time Garrus reached for her trembling hands, holding both in one of his. “I’m not leaving you, not again.”

“You’re sick.” Their prisoner spat, ruining a perfectly good moment. “You betrayed your own race for a turian? An asari?”

Shepard closed her eyes and tried counting to ten. She got to three before reaching over and cuffing the sonovabitch’s ears.

“Together then. Let’s strip this guy and get moving.”


	9. The Benefit of Saving a Galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard and friends attempt to deal with the apparent coup happening on the asari medical ship, the Alune. At the same time Shepard is coming to terms with her own limitations while still in recovery from the damage taken from the final Reaper battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!! Unless I have planned my plot poorly, this should be my second to last chapter. This has been pretty fun to write. Didn't expect to carry on this long, but I'm glad it has.

_Previously..._

 

_Normandy SR-2: Deck 3, Starboard Observation_

_Widow System_

The interior lights of the ship dimmed and chatter lowered to an occasional whisper, signaling that the Council’s agreed upon night cycle had begun. Shepard sat on the floor of starboard observation, leaning back against the view port, luminated by the starry void of space.

Garrus sat across from her, looking relaxed despite having his face recently mangled by a rocket. He leaned forwards, resting his arms on his legs.

“Does Anderson know you are—you're dropping in?”

“Well, I got an irritated message wondering why I didn’t contact him right away. God, Garrus—coming back from the dead is–”

 “Weird?”

Shepard sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s not as fun as it seems.”

His mandibles twitched and his fingers curled into fists. The newfound snarky, sardonic attitude he seemed to have adapted while she was—well—gone, appeared to be in short supply at the moment.

 “Do you wish you weren’t?”

 “No, it’s not that.” She breathed in deep, filling her lungs. “A lot of things changed in two years, but to come back and find out the universe moved on just fine without me—it feels kinda shitty.”

 “I don’t know about “just fine”.” His voice was a murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiled and ignored the flashing new message alert on her nearby datapad.

 “And now—now we’re being hustled by Cerberus. Two years ago, we would have killed these fuckers on sight.”

 “If you want to leave, I’ll back you up.”

Shepard nodded. If someone told her a couple years ago, she would be working and indebted to Cerberus, she would have punched them in Admiral Kahoku’s honour. Hell, if someone had told her a couple years ago that her most loyal friend would be a turian ex-cop, she would have laughed all the way to Shanxi and back. Yet here they were, together amongst the former enemy, commiserating.

 “I think I’ll wait until I get my bearings. I want to talk with Anderson, with the Alliance—figure out what they are doing in terms of the missing colonists—what measures they have taken for the Reapers. Then maybe I’ll be in a better place to decide.”

Garrus touched the side of his face, picking at the bandages, his attention elsewhere. He was mulling something over. Wincing, he adjusted the collar of his new armor and returned his focus to her.

 “I’ve been outside of Council space for some time, but I doubt much has changed. After Sovereign, the bureaucrats were desperate to get everything back to normal. If that meant dismissing the Reaper threat, so be it.”

His eyes darkened. Shepard had to remain hopeful, but she kept it to herself. When she had left for her fateful patrol, Anderson was heavily involved with the transition of putting a human on the Council. Surely that would count for something. Maybe the turians, salarians, and the asari wanted to sweep this under the rug – but would the humans?

 “Have you been back to the Citadel since-” She hesitated, not sure of what words she should use.

 “Since I quit? No.”

 “So, this will be strange for the both of us.”

They fell into an awkward silence, both thinking of how their respective choices brought them to this point. Being a soldier defined who she was. It was the foundation of everything she did. The Alliance had their ulterior motives, but for the most part she knew she could trust her XOs and her fellow soldiers. With Cerberus she had a mission, a goal, but something about it felt wrong. The Illusive Man was a slimy, charismatic manipulator. Miranda was a believer. Jacob was a mercenary trying to convince himself he was righteous. Not people she would recruit for a galaxy saving mission on her own initiative.

With Garrus on board, it felt like she had control of the situation. Someone she could trust without question.

 “Well Shepard, I’m with you no matter what.”

A cheerful smile spread across her face. “There’s no one else I’d want by my side.”

 

* * *

 

_The Hornet_

_Sol System_

 

“We have both Alliance and Asari Republic officials hailing us.” Feron’s voice was nonchalant, his tone would have been appropriate announcing they were receiving a social call from a friendly acquaintance. Their borrowed ship was closing the distance on the Alune; the spacefaring hospital was using thrusters to leave its proximity to Mars. No reason had been reported for its departure from where it had been stationed.

Liara’s brow knit together in annoyance. Seated behind her, James smiled; appreciating the chaotic atmosphere after spending months convalescing and being forced into a semi-retired state.

“Open a line with the asari.”

Feron nodded and complied. The cockpit flooded with the stern voice of an irritated asari.

“Unknown ship, halt and identify yourself.”

It only took a couple seconds for Liara to place the voice.

“I’m disappointed, Officer Adala. Please make sure you have the most recent transportation approvals. Ship name, _The Hornet_.”

There was a considerable pause before the line became active once more.

“My apologies, Dr. T’soni. As you were.” Their end disconnected.

“And the humans?” Feron asked.

Liara nodded.

“Unknown ship –” The line disconnected. Seconds passed before a call from one Admiral Steven Hackett came through to her personal ID.

“Liara.”

“Yes, admiral?”

“How did we miss that Shepard is in danger.”

Despite the use of the word “we”, the question was accusatory.

“You already know?”

Hackett paused. “You have your people, I have mine.”

“Of course. Then you should know that Shepard is fine. And I am sure I need not explain to you the current challenges of intelligence gathering.”

He sighed in response.          

There were several protocols being ignored while the Alune was engaged in its lockdown state. It should have triggered an alert to the asari government. In the singular case of a foreign dignitary on board during a lockdown, a notification would be sent to their respective government. They would deploy respective military teams. None of that had happened. Liara only knew of the issue because Glyph analyzed the footage sent by Shepard. Watching the section of the security vid Glyph identified, a murder of a security guard appeared to have triggered several sleeper agents throughout the ship. Ship records showed they were all human, all requested by the human doctor to assist in Shepard’s recovery.

 As an information broker, the fact that the individual she was endeavouring to protect had to alert _her_ of the problem was embarrassing. The sting was lessened with the salve of learning the combined intelligence of the asari and the humans also did not foresee this security lapse.

“I will coordinate with the asari to mobilize a response –”

“Yes, of course. This is why I have taken the initiative to reach the Alune.” She ignored James cackling from the back of the cockpit.

“And what is your plan?” The admiral’s congeniality was stretching thin, unable to hide the bone deep weariness and frustration of a man of his stature can accumulate.

“To stop this coup before it becomes entrenched. To stop it before Shepard gets involved.”

“I’m sure she can handle herself.”

“Yes, but I prefer to handle this by my preference rather than hers.”

Memories flashed through her mind; riding a Mako through a relay, the Normandy being torn apart, the Collector base being destroyed, a popular sushi restaurant being shattered – Shepard had a brand and Liara desired not to have it applied to the Alune.

“I see.” A pause. “At the least, remain in communication.”

“Yes, admiral.” She disconnected the call.

Feron shared a look as James barked with laughter. “You gotta set of balls on you. Shit, Shepard wouldn’t even hang up on Hackett.”

“I imagine it would be different if I was a soldier.” She replied non-committedly before directing her attention to Feron. “Has the Alune picked up any of the hails?”

“Still receiving the general lockdown message.”

Liara sighed. “Any ideas on how to board the ship?”

Feron’s lips twitched into a smirk. “An idea, yes. Inspired by your human friend here.”

 

* * *

 

_Now..._

_The Alune_

_Sol System_

Progress was slow for Shepard’s makeshift caravan as they made their way through the empty corridors of the Alune. The group now included two able-bodied individuals with a range of varied to questionable martial skill, one slightly dopey civilian, a bruised and unfit soldier, and an ornery captive. She didn’t hold much hope for their chances, but if there was something she and her compatriots were known for, it was doing a lot with very little.

Assisting Lesan with Dr. Maccoby, they each propped the shrink up with an arm around their necks. Garrus was a few steps ahead, marching the asshole who attacked them, a man who couldn’t choose between rage or grief over the loss of his comrades. 

The weight of the arm pressed against skin and muscles that ached from the damage Shepard had received. She had no sympathy for their attacker, and her pounding headache ensured this sentiment.

“Do we trust her?” Garrus called over his shoulder.

“Dr. Maccoby?” Lesan asked while trying to make sure the doctor continued moving one step after another. “Hackett requested her.”

“And if we can’t trust Hackett’s people, we’re shit out of luck.”

The doctor chuckled softly and nodded. “Wise words.” She mumbled.

There had been no repeats of the prior explosions. Whatever had caused them stopped.

An automatic warning explained that the ship was still under lockdown and to remain in quarters. No such luck. Their painfully slow progress halted at the end of the corridor, at a door whose lock interface flashed a crimson red.

“The quickest way to Dr. Khan’s office is through here.” Shepard stepped out from under the doctor's arm and left her with Lesan, moving to Garrus’ side. “A garden, your favourite.”

His mandibles and nose twitched into what she associated as the turian equivalent of a smile. “You’re expecting a fight.”

“Always.”

“Hmmm - it's been some time since I’ve had a good garden firefight.”

She snorted. Lesan shook her head but made no remarks. She gently leaned the doctor against the wall, backing into the corner with a hand on her pistol. Simultaneously they mirrored them; apart from their captive who was shoved towards the center of the door.

“What are you thinking?” Shepard leaned towards Garrus, whispering.

“Thinking it can’t hurt to send him in advance. Problem is, unless others attack us, we have no idea who is part of the coup.”

“Well, I suppose be cautious around humans until we know more.” The idea turned sour in her mind as soon as she spoke the words.

“Traitor.” Their human captive hissed.   

“Got it. Human bad.” Garrus patted her head and she swatted his hand away, a lopsided grin pulling at her lips.

Using her newly procured omni-tool, Shepard accessed the door’s locking mechanism and input her Spectre ID. Unless they had Spectre access, whoever was in the atrium before this happened would still be in there.

The door slid open and a dark silence washed over them. The lockdown had cancelled the atmospheric programming for the atrium. The group waited in silence until sounds of movement reached their ears. Sounds of fast-moving footsteps grew louder as three asari of various shapes and ages rushed towards the door, hesitating at the sight of the angry human standing at gunpoint. They all wore the Alune’s nurse uniform.

Shepard waved them through and looked meaningfully at Lesan. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the nearest nurse, a short and stout asari.

“Des, can you and the others bring Dr. Maccoby to a safe place?”

The asari-Des-looked around wildly before her focus settled on Lesan. “Do you know what’s happening? Why is there a lockdown?”

She turned to see Shepard standing flush against the wall, a tight grip on her pistol. “Oh, Commander—” Her sight drifted to Garrus. “Sir?”

Lesan snapped her fingers, drawing the other asari’s attention. “Des, Dr. Maccoby is hurt.” Her voice was gentle. “And can you tell us if there is anyone else in the atrium?”

The three nurses registered the slow healing gunshot wound marring the doctor’s shoulder.

“No, no one else is in there.” One of them muttered distractedly as their attention became centered on the new patient. “Has there been an attack? Is that the cause of the lockdown?”

“Please, take her somewhere safe and treat her. I have already administered a dose of medi-gel.”

The human turned to look over his shoulder at the newcomers and Shepard raised her pistol, waving it in his direction. “Eyes forward. Don’t get any ideas.”

Lesan took a moment to direct the other nurses before they departed.

“Thank you.” Shepard exhaled in relief, moving to stand next to Lesan. “Okay, through the atrium.”

Once again, her voice rang with confidence. The temporary boost she received with Garrus’ arrival remained but standing at the edge of the darkened space caused cracks to form in her normal determination.

She stared at the back of the angry human’s head, judging his usefulness. _Safer to kill him._ The angry voice returned, urging her to action.

Garrus shoved him forwards but reached back to take her hand. Unusual, but not unwanted. She followed him into the darkness. The change of her demeanor was swift. Her pulse quickened and her skin grew clammy. This put her on edge? _Fucking coward._

Garrus pulled her forward and placed a hand on her back. The darkness hid her while she jumped at the sound of their captive walking into one of the raised gardens.

A vivid and near tangible memory of the asari temple grabbed hold of her mind. Waves of husks rushing their location. Shepard, Garrus and Liara trying to pick them off one by one while claiming cover behind a manicured garden plot. The room dark, visibility low. Misshapen abominations that used to be people. The blood-curdling cry of the banshee causing a terrible crawling fear. A fear that lingered and dug under her skin.

“Shepard.” She didn’t acknowledge him. He knew something was wrong, it was apparent in his voice. “Charlie.” He tried again, using her first name.

Gritting her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed his hand, letting him lead her in the right direction. She felt like a fool, but the fear ebbed while her eyes remained shut. Resorting to playing mind tricks as if she was a child; she let herself be guided through the darkened area.

Their trek across the atrium was tense, but uneventful.

“Time to open the next door.” He murmured.

She nodded and opened her eyes, reaching out for the lock as fast as she could. Hackles raised and her entire spine went rigid, the irrational part of her brain certain the darkness hid monsters waiting to rush their unsuspecting backs.

Garrus gripped her shoulder, bracing her against whatever demons she was wrestling.   After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and light from the corridor flooded the immediate area.

Walking forwards with as much confidence as she could muster, the relief was immediate. Entering the well-lit hallway burned away uncomfortable feelings of fear and shame. _Commander Shepard, afraid of the dark._

“Well, maybe we’ll get a garden fight next time.” Her poor attempt at making light of the situation.

A bit of good cheer found its way back into his blue eyes. “This reminds me of the good old days.”

“Ah, nostalgia. Waking up on a strange ship where people are trying to kill you. That old staple of our partnership.”

Next to them, Lesan sighed and raised her weapon, taking aim at the human.

“We’ll handle our friend.” Jabbing the cane into the back his knee, she shoved him forwards until he dropped to the floor. “You scout ahead.” Gripping the cane, she nodded toward the end of the corridor.

Garrus didn’t hesitate, leaving them with the silent, frowning prisoner.

Lesan sidled closer. “Dr. Khan’s office is there.” She was pointing to the third door to their right. “If this was a trap—”

The kneeling human chuckled. Lesan and Shepard shared a pointed look.

“You have no idea what is happening, do you?”

Shepard pressed the bottom of the cane in between his shoulder blades. “Why the hell would that matter. And of course I don’t, I’ve been in a coma for most of a year.”

“You are a disgrace to your kind.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You erase what it means to be human.”

Anger burned away at her mind. What the hell did it mean to be human. How far back in their history did they have to go in order to maintain what it meant to be “human”. Twenty years, thirty years? Before they discovered extraterrestrial life? Two hundred years? What made this fucker’s opinions any more valid than hers?

“Shepard saved Earth by getting everyone to work together, so I don’t understand how you have reached your opinion.” Lesan looked more annoyed than ever.

“You're a whore for the aliens,” He started to turn and Shepard raised her cane to strike him across the back. He steadied himself for the attack, clearly hoping his words would provoke her into action. He moved to the side, and threw her off balance. Taking whatever advantage he thought he could find, he rolled onto his back and a well-placed kick found her kneecap. She grit her teeth, enduring the pain while it dislocated.

To her left, Lesan fired a shot that impacted the floor next to the man. Not waiting to find out if the miss was accidental or a warning, Shepard threw the weight of her body onto him and watched as his eyes widened against the blow. His head smacked against the hard floor with a satisfying crack. The air left his lungs in a single winding exhale. _Getting attacked out of armour is a bitch, isn’t it? S_ crambling to orient himself, he tried pushing away. Shepard pinned his chest under an elbow, hauling herself up to strike his face. After two sharp jabs she felt the crunch of cartilage underneath her knuckles. _Strike again._ Rage swelled inside. Each attack became cathartic, releasing much pent-up anger. _Again._ Disrespecting her friends. _Again._  Doubting her past motives. Turning them into fiction. _Again._ Innocents being killed because of her existence.

“Shepard!”

She paused mid-swing.

“Shepard, we need this one!”

An asari voice. Not Lesan. Liara.

She looked down at her human punching bag. His mouth slack, his eyes half closed. A shattered, bloody nose and broken skin had left her hand slick with blood.

Looking around, the corridor had doubled in occupants. Seeming to appear from nowhere, Feron stood with Dr. Khan while James and Liara were watching Shepard; Liara with concern, James with appreciation.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Liara gestured to Garrus.

“Why would I?”

She sighed.

Lesan knelt next to the man, checking his vitals. “He’s still alive. Just unconscious.”

Shepard wiped her hand across the front of the hospital gown. Before all this, a few punches from her would be enough to kill a man. She sat back and winced as the pain from the dislocated knee prevented her from further movement.

Garrus pulled her away. “What did he do to you?”

She exhaled and pulled up the hem of her pants. The joint looked to be at an odd angle and the surrounding skin was turning red. “He got a lucky kick.”

Gently placing a hand on her thigh and lower leg, he forced her to straighten it. She steeled against the pain, but with little effort the kneecap popped back into place.

“That’s gross.”

“Spirits, humans are squishy.”

"We make up for it with plucky attitudes though."

Lesan pushed Garrus away as she moved in to inspect the leg. “Goddess, I am a nurse. Couldn’t you two have waited a minute?”

“Let’s move this into one of the offices.” Liara began unlocking a selection of doors, directing James to inspect the rooms. She had the ability to bypass the lockdown. That shouldn't surprise anyone.

“I think it is time we had a conversation with these humans.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, wow - I have had a crazy two months. I had to move, then due to complications from the move I was without Internet for three weeks, and of course all my fan fic is on the cloud. AND my work contract is coming to a close so I have been scrambling to apply to various libraries and office jobs in the event that my contract isn't extended. I don't know if this chapter will sort of reflect that craziness but if it feels kind of wonky, that would be the reason.


	10. The Trouble With Having Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Shepard and Co. are making their way down a hallway. And to the end of the adventure!

 

 

 _The_ _Alune_  

 _Sol System_  

 

“So, you two gonna get married or something?” 

Shepard, being mid-yawn when the question was asked, coughed uncontrollably as her throat constricted. Garrus reached over and braced her shoulders while her body tried choking itself. The three of them were biding time in one of the Alune’s administrative offices. Catching up on lost time; they also let James regale them with a cheerfully embellished tale of how he, Liara, and Feron gained access to the ship.

Conversation lulled, leaving James reaching for new topics. 

“Sorry.” She wheezed. “Uh - wasn’t expecting – the question.” 

Wiping away tears gathered by the exertion of hacking up a lung, she shot James a nasty look.  

“You okay?” Garrus drawled, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction, and squeezed her shoulder gently.  

“Uh-yep.” She forced a cough and cleared her throat. “Just choking on my breath, thanks. Why don’t we table that discussion for now?” 

James shrugged. “Well, I can officiate the wedding is all I’m saying.” 

Garrus chuckled. “Who entrusted you with the ability to marry people?” 

“I’m a man of many talents-” 

“James.” He looked over at her, expecting an admonishment. Not now. There wasn’t time for that. Without knowing how the immediate future would unfold, there were things she needed to say out loud. Her first mistake since regaining consciousness was not confiding in the one person who had her back throughout it all.   

“Give us a moment?” 

A grin spread across James’ face. “Sure, force the man with no legs out the room.” 

She rolled her eyes and shooed him away, waiting for him to leave before speaking. There were things that needed to be said, but she landed on: “We should be in there with them.”  

“You think that’s a good idea?” Garrus asked, pointedly looking at her busted leg.  

Liara and Feron had convinced them to sit tight while they spoke with Khan and the rogue agent. With each passing minute Shepard became increasingly more restless. Doing nothing was the same as letting the enemy win. 

“I don’t remember disasters taking so long to unfold in the old days.” 

“It’s a new age.” There was a smile in his voice. Despite this she scowled, angry at her lack of agency. 

“Let’s give Liara a chance. I promise we’ll bust down the doors if they take too long.” 

“Fine.” She huffed.  

They sat in silence, both waiting for the other to speak. As it always was, their relationship depended on finding moments between the madness; in the beginning they didn’t have time to waste on discussing their relationship. This lent itself to many blunt and awkward conversations. Time would be nice, but once again here they were with little of it.  

“You wanted to talk about something.” It wasn’t a question. He knew she wouldn’t send James away unless there was  _Something_ to discuss.   

“Yeah, the doc—uh, Dr. Maccoby—I feel like most of the stuff she says is bullshit.” Shepard breathed in deeply through her nose.  

“But?” 

"Forgetting - _things -_ really messed me up." What Shepard understood from their sessions was that her brain didn't forget, it just repressed what it didn't like, leaving her with all the shitty emotions and no context to deal with them.

Worry entered Garrus’ eyes and he voiced assurances, but she cut him off. 

“No, I need to say this.” She crossed her arms and stared at her lap. There was no time for preamble, she had to speak her mind, she needed to excise this fear out of her chest. “I’ve always believed in my decisions. I’m so sure I’ve always made the right call—but when I look back,” She shook her head. “I-the cost -.” She paused, waiting for the lump in her throat to pass. “And I know it’s stupid, but forgetting things? Forgetting you? I’m terrified I’ll wake up and it will all be gone. Gone, and all I’ll have is this sense of failure.” 

Garrus pulled her close and she felt the side of his face press against the top of her head. Even after treatment and time, the rigid scar across his neck and jaw was still noticeably defined. She reached up and placed a hand against his face, spreading her fingers apart to cover the width of the scar.   

“What am I without the strength of my convictions? Without the memories of my history?” He murmured. His voice had a far-off quality, suggesting he was remembering words from long ago. 

“Who said that?” 

“One of my instructors in boot-camp. He was an asshole. Thought he was profound, haven’t thought about him for 15 odd years.” 

It was trite, but it suited the personality of a melodramatic turian. “It’s not a  _bad_  thought.” 

“Mm-hmm. What do you humans say, something about a broken clock?” 

“Is right at least twice a day.” She smiled despite her mood.  

He gently squeezed the back of her neck, massaging her neck - her shoulders. Taking a moment to choose the right words. “I watched you drag the damn galaxy to safety. We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t made the right calls. You led us well.” 

Shepard sat back sighing. “We’ve had this conversation too many times. I need to get my act together.” 

 “And we’ll keep having it until your head’s out of your ass. The rest of us have had a year to make sense of what happened. Get your act together but give it time.” 

Memories of fighting through waves of LOKI mechs filled her mind. Waking up on the Lazarus Station and then being put to work as soon as possible.  

Her will to bare her soul faltered and she felt the angry, snarky armor fall back into place.  

“Well—you know how it is. You get resurrected with all your faculties once, and you get false expectations.” 

Garrus laughed darkly. “Just—have patience. Please.” He observed her, expecting something. The same look she received when her memories failed; waiting for her to do or say something beyond her ability to provide.  

She groaned and made a concerted effort to stand. She needed to stretch, her joints were stiff and seizing up. The leg with the busted kneecap buckled and she clutched the side of a nearby desk to regain balance. He picked up her cane and handed it to her. 

“I need to walk. Let’s go find James.”  

He nodded and let her set the pace, shuffling slowly towards the adjoining office. Lesan sat outside the door, and ahead of them another door led to the corridor. The blood she beat out of the human male remained spattered across the floor.  

“Lesan.” Shepard forced a smile. Garrus patted her shoulder and exited into the hall. 

“You eavesdropping?”  

Her face had a worried look; her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. The nails dug into her blue skin.  

“Maybe.” Lesan looked up at Shepard’s hands, at the bruising and the cuts crossing her skin. “Your hands aren’t shaking anymore.” 

Holding up a free hand, she let it hang suspended in mid-air. It remained steady. “Well what do you know, punching the shit out of assholes is therapeutic. I could never convince my commanding officers of that point.”  

“Or, counterpoint—you are now surrounded by people you know and trust.” 

“Stay in your lane, nurse. I already got a shrink.” Shepard knew she wasn’t being fair, but after relying on anger for so long, prickly was easier than genuine.  

The asari’s face rearranged into a smile, one with considerable more warmth and practice than Shepard’s. “Care for some unsolicited advice?” 

She sighed and sat down heavily, slouching next to her nurse-friend. “What the hell, why not?” 

Lesan nodded towards the corridor where James and Garrus were chatting, happily discussing strategy. 

“Goddess knows you have a long healing process ahead, but look at your friends and the people you uplift—” Her brow knitted together and she hesitated, looking for the right words. “I think—I feel if there was someone beyond repair, you and yours would have found them by now.” 

Shepard sighed. It was easy to forget that Lesan wasn't a stranger to those closest to her. Regardless of her relationship with Liara, she had spent almost a year tending to Shepard's unconscious body. Nearly a year alongside her family and closest friends. A stranger she might be to Shepard, but to others, the nurse was a part of her life. Her insight carried weight.

"What if I _am_ beyond repair?"

"You don't truly believe that." She nodded to James and to Garrus. "You have a knack for turning around terrible situations. The proof is right in front of you." 

Tears pricked at the corner of Shepard’s eyes. Still, she spoke with laughter in her voice. “And is this your way of telling me I surround myself with fuck-ups?”   
Lesan laughed. “Of course not, one of those fuckups is mine.” 

They both smiled, this time it was honest. 

“Liara’s something else, isn’t she?” 

Lesan nodded. “I’ve listened to her talk about you, and now I’ve seen you in action.” She coughed and cleared her throat. “Now please, I think I’ve earned the right to be melodramatic, so bear with me. You—you’re rough around the edges, but you build people up, you force them to be better. For themselves, not just others. And—your friends—family—they want to pay you back in kind.” 

Tears rolled down her face and this time she silenced the voice of the drill sergeant, screaming at her from the past. If her body wanted to cry, she would fucking let herself cry. She was arriving at the truth of the matter. It was a hard thing to admit, that something inside might be broken. Something harder to reconcile was the idea that being broken didn’t have to be permanent. It meant acknowledging the monumental task to heal and grow from this point, when all her body wanted to do was sleep and ignore. She knew it, but it was easier to pretend she was fine. Because now that everything was over and done with, she had to figure out how to deal with the fallout of her choices in ways that did not include violence or anger. The military did not equip her with this ability.  

Lesan gave her a moment before gesturing at Garrus. He rejoined them, leaving James in the hall.  

“Are you okay?” 

He held onto her hand and knelt beside her. They shared a look of understanding, built on a multitude of experience and shared trauma. 

“Yeah. I will be, eventually.” She wiped the tears from her face. “Maybe after sleep and—” She balled her hands into fists, trying to figure out how to explain that she needed to punch things in a way that didn’t sound sociopathic.  

“I think I need to punch things.” Nope, she failed. 

Garrus laughed, Lesan looked horrified. 

Shepard sighed, “Settle down, I’m not asking for people to damage.”  

Lesan looked on skeptically. 

“Well - maybe we can eventually discuss adding some form of martial activity into your therapy-” 

 

Liara appeared at the doorway, interrupting further conversation. She was in mid-conversation with a sour faced asari, Officer Limi, the commanding officer who previously held Lesan and Shepard in the security office.  

“The Alune’s safety is relative while the lockdown is activated.” 

Limi nodded. “I agree, but we still do not know the number of people who are compromised. Right now, the situation is contained.” 

Shepard wiped her eyes one last time and struggled to her feet. “Has backup arrived?” 

“Oh Shepard.” Liara walked over, inspecting some bruises she had collected during the attack. “I did not realize how bad-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed away her friend’s worried attention. “What’s the situation?” 

Liara’s attention turned to all gathered. “Council forces have anchored the ship, but they have agreed we attempt to secure certain individuals and meet at an agreed upon entry point before dropping the lockdown. At which point someone will send a specialist team to secure the ship.” 

Shepard snorted and elbowed Garrus. “Remember when we were the specialists? So, you guys prepared to be my escorts?”  

“I am sure we will all enjoy the experience.” Liara said without a trace of sarcasm in her voice.  

“Who can end the lockdown? Can I?” 

Liara shook her head. “Not on the Alune. You can bypass a door or two, but to take back full control of the ship, we need a complete cancellation.” 

 _Trust me,_ was the underlying tone. If nothing else, Liara had gained her complete trust. She would follow her friend’s lead.  

“We need both a medical official and a ship official. Officer Limi and Doctor Khan will cancel it once we reach the rendezvous.” 

Officer Limi’s eyes narrowed.  

Shepard shifted her weight onto the cane, observing the asari with curiosity. 

“You know this ship better than most. You have another suggestion?” 

“We have control now. It would be foolish to end the lockdown with so many unknowns.” 

She weighed either option and those who were offering them. High-risk situations, people's lives in the balance, split-second decisions; these used to be her lifeblood. But then she got punted to earth by a sanctimonious artificial intelligence. She saved the galaxy, but she was tired and hurt and had a brain that kept wanting to wrestle with the choices of her past.  

There was wisdom in both suggestions. “Have you discovered what happened to Officer Diala?” 

“Diala?” Limi did not expect the question and struggled to correlate the topic with the current situation. “Er, the investigation is ongoing. At the moment there are more pressing matters–”  

“You don’t think it’s related?” It seemed rather obvious that it was. “We assumed the murder triggered the lockdown.” 

Liara and Shephard shared a look. The chief security officer of the Alune appeared rather blasé about a murder on her ship. A murder of one of her subordinates no less. 

Liara’s brow arched and she looked over to the room that held Feron and the prisoners. 

Her gut was telling her to be wary of Officer Limi and it wasn’t because of her less than pleasant attitude.  

“I think we will defer to Liara’s plan. No offence.” 

If offence was taken, it wasn’t apparent. 

The group of them moved into the hallway where two helmeted guards stood. They were dressed in the Alune’s security outfit. Were they the two lackeys from the security office? She couldn’t tell.  Feron stepped out of Dr. Khan’s office, leading the doctor while maintaining an iron grip on her arm. He spoke quietly with the two armored asari and they nodded, stepping into the office. It didn’t take long for the two to return, carrying the human male on an emergency stretcher.  

“Do we know who he is?” She asked of anyone gathered.  

James, of all people, interjected. “Ship records say he is Arvid Solberg. Anesthesiologist.” 

Shepard snorted. “Any clue to why he went terrorist?” 

James shrugged. “Liara’s little buddy can’t find any records of him existing before the war.” 

 _Little buddy?_  Knowing James that could describe either Glyph or Feron. 

Feron interrupted the conversation. “We’re ready.” 

 

No one asked if she needed help, but Lesan administered an additional dose of omni-gel. It left her feeling a little jumpy, but out of pain. Garrus gestured for her to wait until the others mobilized. Without a word, the two of them brought up the rear of the procession.  

“Liara has something up her sleeve.” He said under his breath. Shepard nodded in agreement. “And I don’t like not knowing.” 

“Hmm. I thought it was just me in the dark.” 

“Whatever is going on, she’s playing it close to the vest.” 

  Shepard breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the gnawing instinct telling her they were walking into a bad situation. 

“How are you doing?” He asked, abruptly changing the subject. 

“Better. Hopefully.” She smiled and it was an honest smile. “But fair warning, I will probably be wallowing for the next while.” 

“Good to know. I will prepare myself.” They shared a hopeful look and continued after the others.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this has been a long time coming. My one job has turned into 3 different part time gigs which means little time to think about or write fanfic, unfortunately. However, I have finished writing the last chapter and epilogue, it's just a matter of editing them now.


	11. The Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end there are two qualities to remember about Commander Shepard. She is a survivor. Also, she has an army of powerful friends. Good luck trying to kill her.
> 
> *Update* For some reason I hadn't added my final edited version of this chapter, so I've made some changes. No plot changes, just some grammar and sentence fixes.

_The Alune_

_Sol System_

 

The group had not been walking long before Feron caught Shepard’s eye. He smiled cheerfully; an emotion unfathomable for the man when they first met. Since that point, the years had been kinder to him than they had to her.

She watched as he turned to Officer Limi, the security officer of the Alune – who was doing a piss-poor job of securing said ship – and attempted to start a congenial conversation. To no avail. After his conversational skills failed him, he fell back in between Liara and Lesan, he shared a brief, knowing look before moving another step back. Shepard watched as he made his way through their motley gathering of soldiers, spies, and medical professionals. His pace towards them was slow and deliberate, gaining both her and Garrus’ attention. They weren’t the only ones to notice his lackadaisical journey towards them. Dr. Khan desperately tried not to stare at the slow moving drell.

Softly, under his breath, he spoke: “I’m about to create a distraction. I’ll broadcast a signal that  _among other things_  will disable all translators. Take that time and listen to everything Dr. Khan has to say.”

Shepard frowned, but nodded.

“I don’t like this.” Garrus murmured. Shepard signaled agreement with a glance, but Feron shrugged. He smiled with good cheer before submitting a piece of code into the floating screen of his omni-tool.

The effect was immediate. James uttered a loud expletive, signaling the disconnect from the conversation he was having with Liara. Loud, chaotic voices nearly overpowered Khan’s voice. Her words were in a race to escape her mouth, it took all her concentration to piece together what the frightened woman was trying to say.

“Commander Shepard I want you to keep in mind, that after everything—I still put you back together.”

Next to her, Garrus held his rifle in a manner that appeared casual, but Shepard knew would allow him to fire a shot before anyone else could react.

“Ok.” She muttered. She pretended to go through the motions of checking her translator.

“Somehow the fact the Alliance brought me on to lead your recovery became public. The death threats started immediately. This is why the Alune was chosen to be the facility where you would recover.”

Shepard didn’t respond, but like receiving an inconvenient sliver under the skin, a pang of annoyance pierced deep. Death threats to her doctor? If nothing else, the humans who hated her were dedicated.

“The threats didn’t deter me …” The doctor gulped and looked toward Feron. The cheerful smile was still on his face, but you didn’t have to be familiar with drell facial expressions to sense an uncomfortable menace behind it.

“Until some threats included pictures of my family. From inside their homes and places of work. And all they wanted me to do was approve certain personnel - ”

“Shit. Balls.” She turned her face towards the floor so her expression wouldn’t draw attention. Garrus didn’t understand what was being said but didn’t need language to know when his small human girlfriend was gearing up to punch a bystander. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“By this time we had completed the majority of your surgeries. For my family’s safety, their requests did not seem unreasonable.” Her voice was rising in pitch and in panic.

“Translator’s coming back on-line.”

Shepard had a million questions, but she hadn’t survived this long without knowing when to ask a million questions and when to ask one.

“The humans you approved, is Arvid here their leader?” She nodded towards the man she had beaten, still unconscious on the stretcher.

The doctor shook her head. “The person in charge is not someone I approved. And… she is not human.”

They each stared at Officer Limi, whose attention was on a dramatically panicked Liara. An act, Shepard knew.

“Her? That doesn’t make sense.”

“She forced me to help activate the lockdown. Please don’t do anything, don’t let her know I’ve said anything—she will kill my family - ”

An audible click sounded from her translator.

“Hey!” James called out, excited. “I can understand you.”

“I was speaking English.” Liara frowned.

“Ha. Not well.”

Amongst the hubbub of everyone trying to figure out what caused the malfunction, Officer Limi’s gaze zeroed in on Dr. Sajal Khan, hate in her eyes. She strode forward while one of her hands immediately went to the grip of her holstered pistol.

Shepard also stepped forward, acting as if she assumed Limi’s movement was meant to bring them together.

“Do you think she did this?” Shepard nodded towards Khan, who was staring at the floor. The two asari tasked with lugging Arvid, set him down when it was clear the group wasn’t moving forwards.

Limi did a poor job at hiding her frustration but forced herself to stand at ease.

“It should be impossible to hack into implants.”

Shepard nodded and pretended to gain a look of slow confusion. “And I didn’t see her do anything. Could be she has a compatriot nearby.”

“What would they gain by interfering with translators?”

Shepard could quote Sun Tzu, but she wasn’t a pretentious asshole.

Garrus cleared his throat. “This is all fascinating, but it is a conversation we can have on the Alliance ship.”

After a couple tense seconds Limi nodded and took a protracted moment to turn around and walk back to the front of the group.

A damn asari, leading a bunch of alien-hating humans. She wondered if Arvid knew his alleged facilitator was an alien. The conceit of it all being that everything Khan had implied was true.

“Your opinion.” She whispered to Feron.

“What little we have discovered backs up the doctor’s claim.”

Shepard fought the urge of demanding what he knew.

“Why is she working with this one?” Shepard nodded toward the unconscious human.

Feron shrugged. “There are unknowns.”

At that moment Officer Limi turned around to stare at the whispering group. They attempted to look less conspiratorial.

“Sooo—we’re taking her out?” Garrus whispered after a moment of silence passed. Again, he didn’t need to know what had transpired between Khan and Shepard. By facial expressions and body language alone he knew exactly what Shepard was thinking.        

“Bring her in for questioning.” Feron corrected. “Be ready. If everything goes well, we will take her into custody when the lockdown is released.” With that directive, the drell made his way back up the line of people.

It wasn’t lost on Shepard that they found themselves in a situation born out of a woman’s inability to sacrifice those close to her. If the universe hoped she would interpret meaning from this, she couldn’t give it the satisfaction.

 The group began moving once more, and as expected it didn’t take long for their plan to fall apart.

 The hallway ended at an airlock. Signage showed it was only to be used in emergency situations. Limi peered out the hatch’s viewport and then turned to Liara.

“You said a team would be waiting?”

“They will be here any second.”

“But they aren’t here now.”

Liara’s head cocked to an angle suggesting she was apprehensive of the insinuation behind Limi’s words. There was no time to react to the sentiment.  In a manner as casual as unlocking a sealed door, Officer Limi waved her omni-tool and the lights flickered. Weapons and datapads fell to the ground. Exclamations of pain rippled through the group as everyone doubled over, clutching their heads, clawing at their necks. Everyone except Officer Limi and Commander Shepard. The two stood across from each other, separated by a host of friends and comrades in various throes of pain. There was no clue to what afflicted them, only that it seemed to affect everyone equally. Everyone except the two standing.

They watched each other carefully, each running through countless potential scenarios. Shepard had no illusions of her chances. Over the course of a couple hours she had been beaten and bruised. Her energy was spent and the attacks exhausted her. And beyond all that, she still had no armor and no weapon to speak of. All she had left was her anger, a poor motivator when she lacked the energy to act on it.  She should have kept that gun.

Limi brandished her sidearm and Shepard dropped to the floor, making herself less of a target. The asari smirked and walked over to Arvid. Her human compatriot, if Khan was to be believed.

“It is amazing how easy it is to hack into systems after the Reapers fried our AI. Life support systems, security systems, personal cybernetics...even after all this time, we struggle to rebuild what we had.” Without hesitation, she shot Arvid twice in the face. Shepard took advantage of the monologue and reached up to slowly remove the dagger attached to the side of Garrus’ leg. “Shame how much we relied on AI without a second thought. The Reapers are a lesson-”

“If you try to explain the Reapers to me, I will rip your fucking face off.” Shepard muttered while shuffling behind Garrus. Might be nasty to use her boyfriend as cover, but he was armored. He could take a little abuse. “You do something to their implants?”

Risking a moment to look at the traitor, she noticed a temporary translator attached to the asari’s ear; also a removable glove, rather than the standard implant that supplied an omni-tool. With Shepard’s utility cybernetics either forcibly burned out or removed by surgery, it stood to reason the others had been tampered with – something that was previously considered inconceivable. She winced as those around her struggled through immense pain. A few – Liara, Garrus, and James were starting to fight through the experience.

“Your friends are reckless, using powerful malware on my ship. Didn’t take much effort to figure out how to use it against you.”

Shepard did not have significant intel on the situation. She did not know how much of the truth Liara offered. She had to trust that there were a group of allies about to board the ship. In this scenario, all she had to do was stall Limi until then. Or until the tampering was no longer effective.

Lesan collapsed to the floor, purple blood dripping from her ears.  Liara reached out her hand and began to form a mass effect field, but Limi formed one of her own, using biotic abilities to empower a shove into the corridor wall.

“Is the plan to kill us all? Then what? The Alune is anchored.”

Limi weaved around the others, using her biotics to further disable James and Garrus, until she stood in front of Shepard, aiming for her head.

“Lucky me. Commander Shepard happens to be such a fortunate hostage.” There was a biting anger to her words, the kind reserved for those who have personal vendettas. “Get up.”

Behind her, Liara and Garrus were attempting to stand, beginning to shake off the effect of the overloaded cybernetics.

“I think I’ll sit, actually.”

Limi opted to use the pistol as a melee weapon, striking her across the face. Shepard grunted as teeth loosened under the impact. Steeling herself, she grabbed the asari’s arm.  There was a brief struggle to get free and Shepard slashed deeply into Limi’s wrist. The blade cut through armor and enough flesh that her hand released the gun and it dropped to the floor. Shepard dove for the weapon. No luck. Weak mass effect fields formed, shoving both the gun and her back down the hall. The gun skittered a full meter out of reach.  _Shit._  Looking at her attacker, it was clear the biotic effort was taking a toll. A biotic she might be, talented she was not.

“I hope this wasn’t your grand plan.” Shepard’s voice was weak, and her mouth was full of bile and blood. She cleared her throat and spat out the excess. “People with better resources and reasons have tried killing me and failed.”

Behind Officer Limi, Garrus was attempting to reach for his rifle. Like Lesan, trails of blood drained from his ear openings. Metallic clanging and whirring of machines sounded from beyond the airlock.

“You don’t know what I want.” Limi walked towards her. “Arvid wanted you dead.”

Shepard pushed herself up and clutched the dagger. She sat with her back against the wall, conserving her energy.  

“Yeah? And why the fuck were you two working together?” Shepard struggled to get her words out, letting herself sound beaten. It was close to the truth.

She shrugged and moved to the far side of the hall, moving towards her dropped weapon. “Our goals aligned where it mattered.”

 _Bullshit._ As the asari took another step, Shepard used her remaining energy to bolt from her spot on the floor. Anticipating an increasingly weak biotic attack, Shepard crouched and heard it impact the wall - not even cracking the plating. She attempted to dodge an armored foot, but her shoulder received a frustrated stomp. An attack that would have been debilitating if Lesan hadn’t administered the medi-gel earlier. Retaliating wildly, Shepard jammed the dagger into a gap in Limi’s armor, as deep as she could force it.

The security officer of the Alune cried out and tried to shuffle away. Like a wounded and blood-raged animal, Shepard latched onto her opponent. She stood and hooked her arm under Limi’s chin, using both arms to increase pressure. Limi elbowed her in the gut but she didn’t let go. The asari changed tactics and tried reaching for the dagger sticking out of her leg. Shepard’s will to live was being outpaced by a terrifying lack of energy. At this moment, if everyone left her alone, she would immediately fall asleep, right here on the floor.  This fight would have to rely on the forces of artificial gravity to do the heavy lifting. She wrapped her legs around Limi’s waist, gritting her teeth against the pain involved with the effort. Now top heavy and off-balance, the two of them crashed to the floor.

Limi abandoned her scrambling attempt to grab a weapon and clawed at Shepard’s arms.

“Stop!” She pushed through gritted teeth. “End the lockdown!”   

The security officer struggled wildly to escape, punching and kicking, trying to find purchase. This was do or die, neither would relent until the other was dead or unconscious.

“End ... this.” Shepard snarled her words and spat them out.

The traitorous officer was gasping now, desperate to breathe.

“Stop what you are doing, or I will kill you.” Shepard would have preferred to sound less exhausted and a little more intimidating.

Seconds passed as if an eternity as she waited for Officer Limi to act. Finally, she reached for her omni-tool and keyed in a series of commands. Shepard didn’t let go, she couldn’t. Limi finished with the omni-tool and stopped struggling. A few more seconds passed and the asari went limp in her arms. Shepard was momentarily frozen with indecision. If this was a ruse, she did not have the stamina to survive retaliation. If it was not a ruse and she continued blocking the windpipe, the bitch would die.

She loosened her grip by a fraction and after no resistance, shoved the body away from her. With the exertion used, her arms were jelly. They flopped to her side and she lay flat on her back. For a brief second, the rush of endorphins chased away her doubts and pain. Her mind felt clearer than it had in recent memory. She felt like herself. Her old self. But this frame of mind passed as soon as it came. Aching limbs and head returned. She remained on the floor and closed her eyes; all other bad guys would have to wait.

“Shepard!” Footsteps raced towards her. Hands reached for her neck, checking for a pulse.

“I’m alive. Just resting.”

She felt Limi be pulled away and Garrus’ hand patted the side of her face.

“Shepard, are you awake?” His voice was too loud. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling over her, being quite careful while checking over her injuries. Deep bruises and abrasions, mostly. Her most egregious injuries were to her energy and constitution, things a little less noticeable than a broken body. Down the hall Lesan was coming to, Liara helped her up and appeared to attempt a connection with something using her omni-tool. The two of them dragged Dr. Khan up into a standing position and the three of them shuffled to a console near the airlock.

“I’ll live.”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” He was speaking louder than necessary. Limi’s tampering must have affected hearing, however temporary. She gestured weakly to her head, forming a hand signal universal across the various Council Space militaries. It meant she  _believed_  she was of sound mind and body.

At that moment, the airlock seal popped, slid open, and troops filed in.

“Ah. Good, the cavalry. Right on time.”

The process of securing the ship went underway in a blur. Shepard remained peripherally aware of their actions, her mind fixated on Limi and the peculiar nature of her involvement. Despite the dissatisfactory conclusion of her attempt at subterfuge, the asari seemed strangely indifferent to Shepard. Not like Arvid, who prattled on like a deluded zealot. Two factions, both after Shepard. Or after two different things? The ship? Something else? Without any intel, it would be pointless to consider this further. Regardless, despite her condition and precarious mental state, she knew down to her bones she was a survivor. She survived the Reapers, these fuckers weren’t taking her out.

Others came to escort their small group, sans the two security guards, Officer Limi, and dead Arvid. At the end of the docking tube, adding to the surrealism of what was happening, a stern-faced Admiral Hackett greeted them; personally watching over the transfer from the Alune.

Shepard had a dizzying moment of deja'vu, harkening back to the moment before she left Lazarus Station for Freedom’s Progress. Greeted by a man who wanted to collect on his investment.

“Hackett.” She nodded. Garrus was half carrying her at his point and he dragged her into what was clearly an Alliance ship. She straightened and realized too late that she no longer had her cane. Garrus caught her before she fell, hauling her up into his arms.

A disconcerted squawk escaped her lips.  Admiral Hackett was one of the few commanding officers that instilled in her a need to show decorum. These days, Shepard felt little shame, but the current situation still struck her as slightly inappropriate. The feeling of impropriety was brief. Being carried was an upgrade over stumbling along with her lightly damaged limbs. Limi might have been a weak biotic, but Shepard had been unarmored and on the receiving end of one of her attacks. Whatever it had done internally, it didn’t feel great.

“Shepard, glad to see you’re alive.”

“Yep. Me too.” Her words slurred.

“Admiral, the medbay?” Garrus interjected. Their voices faded away as Shepard drifted off into a half-conscious state. Her body in pain, but her mind at ease, she let her friends carry her to safety.

 


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One part of her life ends as another begins. Also, Commander Shepard would like a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the final chapter ... more of an epilogue! I hope you enjoyed reading, I certainly enjoyed writing it. Also, the previous chapter (11) wasn't the final edited version and for SOME REASON I didn't catch on until recently. I've updated it - there aren't any major changes, just some updated sentences and grammar.

_Undisclosed Alliance Base_

_Earth_

 

Hackett sat in the corner of a hospital room looking grey and tired. Shepard’s attention focused on him, but his attention remained on two individuals decked in Alliance colours. 

Not even a day had passed since the escape from the Alune, and she was growing weary of being the primary resource in the investigation of _what the hell_ happened.  The two newcomers were attempting an interrogation of which she had no desire to take part. Their nervous movements, their furtive side glances at the Admiral told Shepard they were not familiar with the man. Or she was making them nervous. Apparently, the _idea of Commander Shepard_ had taken a life of its own over the past year. The two turned away from Hackett, perhaps wondering _why_ the admiral sat in on their investigation, rather than wait for their report. No matter, she purged their identities from her mind, it was doubtful she would ever see them again; these were people sunk deep in the Alliance machine. No need to know anything about them except that they were Alliance.

They didn’t come out right and say it, but she inferred from their questioning that they could not believe such an event might happen adjacent to her, without her being the reason it would occur. To her increasing annoyance, the two asked unending questions about Arvid, about Khan, about Limi, about the dead asari, about Lesan. Despite experiencing it firsthand, she was as much in the dark as everyone else.  For much of the conversation, Hackett sat with his hands clasped casually in his lap. It wasn’t until Shepard began musing about Security Officer Limi (her name said with much scorn), that he appeared to have any outward interest.

“My gut says everything that happened was a distraction.” When she was conscious, it was all her mind wanted to think about, and she was certain Limi used Arvid’s fanaticism as a cover. If her purpose was to kill Shepard, there were a million ways to do this in the months she was comatose. 

“What do you mean? Did you see or overhear anything?” Asked one investigator – not noticing Hackett’s renewed attention. 

“I asked her about her involvement with Arvid. She said their goals aligned where it mattered. She also thinks we rely too much on cybernetics, I guess? Tried to tell _me_ of all fucking people that the Reapers were a lesson for our dependency.” They stared at her blankly as she prattled on, Hackett looked contemplative.

“Are there asari-luddites out there? That might be something you can look into.”

“And why do you think your involvement was merely a distraction?”

Enduring over three years of trying to convince an indifferent galaxy of impending doom had taken a toll on her very being. At the very least, she would not enter retirement with the universe doubting her instincts. These days she did that enough on her own.

Feeling particularly moody, she curled her hands into fists, trying to control her annoyance. She knew what they wanted. They wanted to neatly close this incident with the most logical reasoning; Commander Shepard, a very important person, was targeted by nasty terrorists. Villains were apprehended, case closed.

“I’ve already told you what that _bitch_ told me. I’ve already told you my opinion on what happened. Either sweep this under the rug or go out and do some goddamn investigating.”   Shepard tried sitting up, but stabbing pain shot through her midsection, unbidden. A mixture of pain and drugs took hold and Shepard, no longer wishing to speak with people she didn’t care about, allowed her mind to drift under.

 

 Shepard woke with no concept of how much time had passed. She feigned unconsciousness while the voice of her mother advised unknowns that Commander Shepard needed a break. Wasn’t that the damn truth.

A muffled voice she couldn’t place.

“Steve, out of all the years you have known my daughter, do you think she would hold back if she knew something?”

More of the same muted voice. Her brain recognized that her mother was speaking to someone via comms. She assumed that someone was Hackett.

“No, I don’t believe a word that damned asari is saying. Not until it’s verified.” A pause. “No, you’ll have to talk to Garrus about that.”

A faint chuckle came from the other side of the room. She tried to focus on whoever else might be present, but her mind reeled, and the unconsciousness became genuine.

 

* * *

 

_Over the Pacific Ocean_

_Earth_

 

Becoming conscious once more, Shepard felt uncomfortable. Unsure of what state her mind was in - feeling heavily disoriented. Hazy voices murmured nearby, but she wasn’t ready to speak. She didn’t want the attention. If she was still asleep, no one could bother her.

“Any news?” Mom.

“No.” Garrus.

“How the hell did that bitch escape.”

A shared laugh.

Something jostled Shepard in her bed. Not a bed. A cot? It didn’t feel like a bed. A noise she could not place became a precursor to more movement. She was rocked gently back and forth. Mom and Garrus continued speaking.

“I’m seeing where Shepard gets it.” A chuckle from both of them. “Getting to know you - I think I understand her better.”  There was nearly a year of relationships that Shepard missed out on. Namely, her mother and Garrus becoming comfortable enough to commiserate by her bedside.

 “Lord, don’t tell her that.” A sigh. Her mom’s sigh. “I could say the same about you. You understand her more than most. You’ve had her back during the worst moments of her life, that will leave a lasting impact.” Silence. Neither moved or spoke for a time.

“She’s not the same baby girl I watched enlist. Part of me can’t understand what she’s been through.”

It occurred to Shepard the woman they spoke of was her, and the mysterious bitch from the beginning of the conversation was a different person. She drifted a bit, only returning to semi-consciousness as the conversation circled back around to the mysterious escapee.

“Where did she go, how could everyone lose all sight of her?”

“Hell, if I know. But Liara wanted to move Shepard as soon as possible, take her to a secure location.”

“More secure than the Alliance base?”

“Definitely. Not taking any more chances.”

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the tension building.

“And you and Liara think Charlie wasn’t the target.”  
At the sound of her seldom used first name, she shook her head and opened her eyes.

During her moments of consciousness, her mind fixated on the events that took place on the Alune. She could not let the conversation continue without offering her opinion. Wincing, and gasping, she pulled herself into a sitting position. No stabbing pain this time. A confusing number of seconds passed before she realized she was sitting in the interior of an Alliance shuttle, on a makeshift cot resting on top of several crates.

Still, she persisted. “Who escaped?”

The two shared a look before shifting closer to her side.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you?”

_“_ First, tell me what you know. What happened on the Alune.”

Admiral Hannah Shepard knew her daughter and understood if she truly wanted information, she would not back down from obtaining it. Despite wishing a calm and relaxed mind for her, withholding information would only aggravate her further. Breathing in through her nose, the older Shepard began rattling off a summarized version of all that had been reported.

“Okay, fine – let's start with Arvid. A typical, if unfortunate case. His entire family was killed during the war. Proper care wasn’t offered to him in time and the Human First movement, they radicalized him.” Admiral Shepard winced. She had seen more than her share of soldiers falling through the cracks of the system. “He was a private person, many of his opinions were only posted in anonymous forums.”

Translation: He was on no one’s radar; this is part of the reason he could board an asari ship under the guise of an anesthesiologist.

“Dr. Khan is still under investigation, but it appears her account is the truth. She was threatened and coerced into action.”

“And Officer Limi?”

She paused, contemplating her response.

“What do you know?” Shepard prompted.

“Security Officer Limi escaped her confinement last night.” Both of them looked pained at the admission.

“Well, fuck.” A surge of panic clenched her body. “That’s embarrassing.”

She waited for her mom to elaborate. She did not.

“What _do_ you know?”  
After a careful pause, her mom sighed. “You might gain more information from Dr. T’soni, but Limi appears to have activated a plan with no prior allegiances or motives before her station on the Alune. During the year you recovered, she posed as an influential figure in many Human First extranet forums. She coerced Dr. Khan into complying with her and Arvid’s demands. Activated the Alune’s lockdown. Her plan, whatever it might have been seems to have become derailed by an encounter with an Officer Diala.”

“Whom she killed.”

“Yes. And we assume her meddling with the cybernetic implants was a last-ditch attempt at escape.”

“I assume the timing of this had to do with all of you leaving the Alune?” Shepard did not blame anyone; at worst it was just bad timing.

“That is the assumption.”

 

Shepard’s angry panic began to subside and she looked over to Garrus. He nodded. The information was sparse, but reliable. This was hardly new information, but there was satisfaction in having it verified. It contributed to a perverse relief knowing for certain that for once she was not the cause or focus of a goddamn disaster.

“So, no one knows what her endgame is?”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed. “You're sure this has nothing to do with you?”

“Oh, I’m sure I factored into this bitch’s plan somehow. But Arvid - and me – she implied we were a distraction for whatever her goal was. My gut says she was being truthful.”

Turbulence jostled the shuttle again and Shepard looked around the windowless cabin.

“Are we planet-side?”

Garrus nodded. “Apparently Liara has a safe house somewhere on Earth. Wants to personally keep an eye on you until she is comfortable with the situation.”

Shepard rubbed her eyes. Hell, she needed a break. “Sounds about right. That’s where we’re going?”

If anyone could find out what was going on it would be the Shadow Broker. Perhaps it was time to let someone else take the reins on this adventure.

He nodded again. “She’s embarrassed she let someone get so close to you.”

“She’s trying to keep tabs on the whole galaxy, we can’t blame her.”

“Well, she does.”

Garrus reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. His expression sobered. “I thought for a second – I lost you. Again.”

Shepard remembered the panic in his eyes as he rushed over to her side as she lay on the floor of the Alune. She shook her head and rolled off her cot. Her body swayed like a drunk and she collapsed next to him, the exertion too much for her new bones. Her mom pretended not to pay attention.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Vakarian.”

He pulled her up into a more comfortable sitting position.

“I’m interested to see how you guys manage when the galaxy isn’t constantly threatened.”

Shepard grinned at her mom’s cheeky smile.

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Considering our track record, we should be due for a galaxy threatening event in a years time.” The drawling snark was finding its way back into Garrus’ voice. “In any case, sticking by your side is probably the smart choice.”

A swell of happiness momentarily displaced her angry, cynical core. Shepard reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on the side of his face. They would be all right.

 

Logically the war with the Reapers should have erased any doubt of her past choices.

 

Fear and anger still rattled around Shepard’s heart, but it was starting to be cushioned by hope. It was bizarre to be bolstered by recent events, considering Limi and Arvid were nowhere near the level of threat she had experienced in the past. Yet here she was, surviving multiple attacks while convalescing, unarmored, and with pitiful weapons. It had exhausted her, but she was relieved; the batarians couldn’t kill her, the Reapers couldn’t, _these new_ goddamn assholes didn’t. She would die when she was fucking ready to die.

 

* * *

 

 

_United North American States_

_Earth_

_Months Later_

They had propped the front door of the old wood cabin open with a battle worn turian chestplate. The hope of bringing in a fresh breeze was a dismal prospect, considering the oppressive heat the local area currently endured. The lack of climate control and sealed openings made the doors useless. Combined with their remote location and the sweltering weather, the cabin’s inhabitants were not concerned with the modicum of safety that the flimsy mesh and metal material might provide. So, the doors remained open, for whatever small relief it provided.

Shepard stood in the middle of the compact kitchen area, stretching the previous night’s sleep out of her limbs. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her sleepwear - briefs and a tank top that read _Azure Dreams_ across the chest - the humidity of this early summer morning made any article of clothing uncomfortable. Donning a new outfit seemed pointless.

To her right an old teak table that served her family for generations had been covered in a plastic sheet, a disassembled Punisher across its top. Living her whole life on one ship after another made the childhood trips to this spot all the more special. When human’s waxed nostalgic about Earth and its conveniences, she had no basis for comparison. In her mind the home planet would always be warm summer days and cool nights, limited power and utilities, and surrounded by – frankly – too much nature. Having her past and present clash on this land contributed a surreal quality to her temporary living space. She grinned at the idea of her grandparents reckoning with the fact that their summer cabin had one of those _goddamn aliens_ living in it. She was giving them time to warm up to Garrus before revealing that he would be part of the family.

A dull chatting drifted in through the door, followed by the comm alert of an approaching shuttle. She followed the voices out onto the front porch. The Shepards had built the small cabin centuries prior in a forest far from any manner of civilization. Over the years, civilization crept closer, but it was held at bay by land hard to tame and harder to traverse. 

Garrus sat on the porch, a datapad next to him playing a message that sounded a good deal like Victus.

 

_...ontrack to bringing the mass effect relays back online. There is still a long way to go, but we are making progress._

 

The voice sighed, sounding quite incredulous.

 

_We – turian, asari, human, salarian – even the goddamn krogan working together. Still working, despite the war’s ending. I have seen it with my own eyes and I hardly believe it’s happening._

 

The voice paused for a longer period of time. _Speaking of which, the krogan delegation just arrived._

_About what I said previously, contact me, I am interested in your thoughts._

The connection ended.

Shepard sat next to him, fanning her top as she did. This weather might be temperate for turians, it certainly wasn’t for humans.

“Are you being called away?”

Garrus scratched at the rigid scars that marked the side of his face. “ _We’re_ being called away.”

Their vacation of five uninterrupted days was a record. The universe, it would seem, conspired to keep them constantly active, with little time for each other.

“Victus asking you to take his place yet?”

Garrus chuckled. “Despite his complaints, he takes to politics to a degree I never could. My brain just isn’t wired that way.”

Shepard nodded. If the politics didn’t involve berating people until they agreed with her, she was out of her depth as well.

“No, the Council is having issues with some of the demands from the krogan and they feel we are uniquely qualified to assist.”

“Of course. And what are the krogan saying?”

“Not much, only that they refuse the counsel of anyone else.”

“Can’t blame them.”

Shepard sighed, wondering exactly what the Council thought she could do. She wasn’t magically going to make a whole race agree to their wishes.

“Do you want to live somewhere like this?” Garrus asked, abruptly changing the subject.

The thought had entered her mind but was not considered.

“It’s nice.” She swatted another mosquito away. “It would be nicer if I could control my surroundings.”

His mandibles twitched; a smirk. "Here we are, on your planet – I've never been more comfortable. And you --” He gestured at her sweaty, bug-bitten form. "Clearly it likes me more than you.”

“No,” She pushed his smug face away. “Clearly it loves me _too_ much. C’mon, protect me from these damn bugs.” Shepard climbed into his lap, curling her legs up against her chest.

“I don’t think this is an area of effect thing - ”

“Shh. This will work.” After sitting for a minute unbitten, she became convinced her theory was correct. _Stick close to turians, they will protect you from bugs._

The Alliance wanted her to stay on Earth. _Despite some random fanatics,_ they had told her, _the people need to see you._ _You’re a symbol._ This sentiment was not motivation enough. She had given everything for the human race, it was time it figured things out on its own.

_“_ I was 10 years old before I even stepped foot on Earth. I’m human, I’m Commander Shepard – I nearly died for the fucking place. I’m supposed to say Earth feels like home, but – it doesn’t.”

Garrus rested his hands across her stomach, holding her to him as he lifted his feet up to rest on the porch railing before them.

“Do you think we have enough clout to commandeer the Normandy from the Alliance?” A smile in the sound of his voice.

“Our own personal stealth ship. Sounds reasonable.”

The proximity alert pinged again; they both ignored it.

“Living planet-side always felt -” She paused, trying to sum up her irrational feelings on the matter.

“Claustrophobic.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

That was as close a definition as she could think of. She nodded. At the moment, living on Earth was more of a convenience. Sol’s corner of the universe was feeling rather crowded these days and she had the advantage of family and friends who owned property on the surface. Still, an itchy restlessness in the back of her mind left her wanting to leave as soon as the mass effect relays were back on line.

Garrus, who had been born on Palaven, lived most his life on ships and stations and he understood how she felt. He might not share the same ambivalence of living on his home planet that she did, but he could relate.

There was no longer a need for the proximity alert as the sounds of an approaching vessel reached their ears. A non-descript shuttle cleared the treetops and slowly lowered onto the sloping land that surrounded the cabin, some 50 metres south of their position. Stalks of grass and a smattering of wildflowers where whipped into a frenzy before being pushed violently away from underneath the shuttles thrusters.

Shepard felt Garrus’ grip grow tighter around her midsection as he reached over to a hand-carved wooden chest that her grandma crafted many decades earlier. Flipping it open revealed a decent cache of pistols and grenades.

She shifted in his lap so she was facing him and slung an arm around his neck. “I cannot express how much I love you.” A devious smile pulled at her lips. “But I feel if we assume every surprise visit is an incursion, some innocent will get killed.”

He pressed his forehead against hers before leaning back – feet now on the ground – with a Carnifex in hand. “You say that, but eventually people will know not to pay us a surprise visit.”

It didn't take long before a newcomer cleared their throat. “You guys need a moment?”

Shepard leaned back to see James Vega walking up to the porch.

Garrus gestured towards him with the gun. “Now here’s an asshole who needs to be shot before learning a lesson.”

She grinned and gave Garrus a teasing shove before running down to give James a suffocating bear hug. “Good to see you, what brings you here?”

James shrugged and offered a cheeky smile. “There’s a lot to catch up on, you’ll probably want to get dressed for this.”

She looked down at her outfit comprised of briefs and a tank top and shook her head.  “You tell me what’s going on and I’ll be the judge of whether it’s worth getting dressed.”

“Ok, sure.” He rolled his shoulders before nodding southward. “I was heading down to New York when Liara called. Told me to pick you up – it's something about the Alune business.”

Shepard turned back to Garrus and her gaze dropped to the datapad by his side. Council business, or taking on a personal case; a silent question. Garrus nodded toward the shuttle. Looked like this would be a getting dressed situation after all. She smiled at James.

“We should go.”

 

 


End file.
